Gold Dust Woman
by karison
Summary: After dealings with Hoyt, Detective Rizzoli has shed her badge to become a personal driver for the famously cold-as-ice socialite Maura Isles. Follows the unraveling of two people as they overcome the many changes in their lives and the unique bond they form when a shared experience turns everything around for them. Rizzles, always, of course. AU / Slow burn
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Hello readers, I am still in the process of one story on here and have one more chapter to go on it, but wanted to get this rolling right away while I had it in me. Please note it is NOT a sequel or second installment to "And it all Comes Down to You…" It is an entirely different entity. Please enjoy and review, thank you! -Kara

Chapter One

The sound of the halogen lights echoed across the rows of cars in front of us. "As you can see, this is my selection of vehicles. My father's prized possessions passed down to me." The clack of her expensive and probably custom five inch heels on the cement across this enormous enclosed parking lot made my nerves pulse more than the thunderous tick of the halogen above us. She stopped in the middle and waved her hand over the spread of the dozen vehicles. "I have also acquired several newer models to add to the collection."

I scanned the area as briefly as it seems I was allowed to and noticed it was quite the variety of picks. New, old, muscle, classic, electric…

Without a look in my direction her honey blonde, long and wavy locks swung behind her as she turned to go back through the door in which we came with a brisk pace while continuing with her instructions. "If the cars require keys they will be placed in the visor when not in use. I will notify you when and where I need to be and which car I would like you to use. Every so often I will ask you to switch cars for the pick up and drop off. I expect you to be 100% prompt and ready for me at my call at all times. If there is ever an issue with any of these vehicles I will see to it that you have my mechanic and body work experts' contact information. If you do not have any questions about the lot or the cars, I would like to show you where you will be staying."

All I had were questions. I hardly blinked in her direction before she quickly pedaled over the threshold and down the perfectly placed cobblestone paved path to the guest house. Flawlessly manicured landscaping engulfed the walk, aligned with bushes, flowers, small and medium sized trees, and koi fish ponds with bridges. The entire backyard covered about five acres of land at this Dover, Massachusetts estate. We were rounding a corner where I saw the beginning of a small white fence and flowerbed along with a darker brick walkway that lead to the light sand and sky blue cape code style house with a wraparound deck.

"This will be your home. It has two bedrooms, one bathroom, an attached garage for your own vehicle, fully equipped kitchen with top of the line appliances, as well as plenty of storage space."

Her designer heels clicked up the three steps to the front porch and I glanced at the cabaret table in the corner with two chairs next to a set of rockers. She twisted open the front door and caught my eyes, "if you would prefer an interior decorator to re-furnish, please let me know and I will be happy to arrange that. I am no expert, but I will say I hand selected each of the items in this home." As we walked through the small foyer area, I cornered the wall next to the rack of coat hooks and took notice of the open concept living and dining areas with the nicest kitchen I think I have ever seen. When she said top of the line she was not kidding. I knew immediately I would need manuals for all of them.

"The bedrooms are on either side of the kitchen and the bathroom is an en suite in the master." I followed behind her quickened pace through my giant and beautifully furnished room that looked like it came straight out of a Pottery Barn catalog, only better, and she switched on the light to the bathroom. There was a whole spa set up with an all glass stand up shower with nozzles coming out of everywhere and the large rainfall one overhead, a huge Jacuzzi in the middle of the room with jets coming out of every inch of it, and an extra large and very modern looking vanity with a bench seat and lighted mirror that covered the entire wall. The bathroom was perhaps the largest room in the house.

I felt the need to say something as I scraped my jaw off the ground. "Miss Isles, this home is incredible. I do not foresee any rearranging of anything here. You have done an impeccable job and I know I would never come close to this. You certainly have an eye for this, Miss Isles."

With a curt nod and an almost genuine smile, she left me to get settled in making mention of the new cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter and all the important numbers I would need already logged in there. She gave me the courtesy of letting me know that at about nine o'clock this evening she would be notifying me. I thanked her vehemently for the accommodations and got to work unpacking.

I only had four suitcases, two boxes, and three duffle bags full of belongings that I carried in after parking my car in the garage for the evening. I questioned how long it would be until I drove it again. I didn't see myself really leaving the residence anytime soon without having it be work related. I did not know any one that lived here except for my new employer – Maura Isles of Isles Associates, an investment firm that has pretty much taken over the entire East Coast, originating here in Boston, my new home.

It would take some getting used to, the East Coast. Being from Chicago, there are quite a few similarities in regards to the city structure, different neighborhoods, type of people… but the air smells different, the sidewalks feel different, the trees are wrong. And though I don't mind the Red Sox because they're a good team, decent sportsmanship, but I'm a Cubs fan through and through. I don't see that ever changing, but I'm sure I could come to appreciate the Red Sox a little more at some point.

I will miss going to all the games with my former partners from the squad. Detective Jane Rizzoli Homicide, Chicago PD, four years service. I joined the academy as soon as I got out of the high school, spent three years there, then got hired on as a beat cop for two years, then went on to spend five in vice while trying to make my spot as a detective in homicide. I soon became the youngest to ever be promoted to the new rank. I rode it out for four years until a serial killer became obsessed with me during an intense case the spanned over the course of five months. I went against his M.O and was on track to finding him. I made a rookie mistake, going to investigate on my own based on a hunch… Rookie mistake.

I was held captive for eleven hours. An L-shaped wound bleeding from the back of my head from the two-by-four that connected with it, and scalpels sticking out of each palm pinning me the ground beneath. His name was the Charles Hoyt… The Surgeon. After the whole ordeal and nine months of physical therapy I knew I needed to leave – my family, my friends, my department, my partners.

I had spoken at length with my Lieutenant about this and he told me to give his friend a call. He was a retired sergeant in the Boston PD and had spent the next ten years driving for a specific client and preparing the leave the position to spend the rest of his life in Florida.

I let a week go by while I packed to go nowhere and finally gave the man a call. He was nearing his last ten days on the job and was waiting for me to get a hold of him. He had already recommended me as a replacement to Miss Isles and now here I am - personal driver to the philanthropist, socialite, and daughter of the famous Arthur Isles. She had a reputation in the media for being cold and intimidating as she rose to the ownership of her father's company following his passing.

With the last of my belongings unpacked and a scan around the area. I decided I was going to take a shower and figure out all the buttons and switches in there, get dressed in the required attire, and sit in front of the sixty-five inch curve television on the overstuffed couch in my new living room and wait for my first call.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer (that I forgot to put in first chapter): I do not intend to gain any profit from use of these characters.

Chapter Two

Six months. One hundred and eighty-four days to be exact, since I have been on the job. I received an eight a.m. message from her stating she had a busy day and several places to be. Three hours later I was taking her to her fancy French salon for a ninety minute massage, hair, make up, nails, the works. Apart from the first introduction of the cars and property there have been maybe been a handful of lines of dialogue between us.

Whenever I take her to this salon I know it'll be another three and a half to four hours until I have to pick her up again. In the down time of the pick ups and drop offs I have been taking the initiative to discover the city. I have never strayed too far from Miss Isles' location for fear of her needing me right away and I showed up too late for her liking. So I took to stopping for coffee at a new place every few hours, a diner here or there, the Quincy Market, walks around the Back Bay neighborhood and around the Charles when the weather was nice enough. When all else failed I would nap in the car or read until my phone would go off, saying she was ready, or telling me to swap out cars.

Today I am cruising around Commercial Street in the North End part of Boston in the Benz S-Class. It's black and sleek and luxurious. Miss Isles usually prefers this car when going to and from the Salon. That's another thing I have come to wonder – which car goes to which event. I, myself, would choose a little differently. I had driven the white Porshe Panorama on multiple trips to Newton for lower-brow clients and the Genesis G90 to places near Cambridge where she never tore her eyes away from the window. When it came to designer galas and whatever type of release party, Miss Isles seemed to have a soft spot for the 1945 Aston Martin and her Tesla Model S.

Occasionally I'll wonder which car is her favorite, if she even has one, and why. But with the lack of conversation we have, it's almost difficult to read her. I think sometimes I may be looking too closely. She's absolutely gorgeous, of course, everybody can see that. She is always, always perfectly put together. She also has this intelligence about her, not that we have spoken at length, but it's just a gut feeling because of the way she carries herself. I have seen a lot of interaction between Miss Isles and "friends" or clients and have noticed how standoffish she is. She holds herself stiff; she is polite, but not too polite. She is extremely direct and does not seem to pick up on a lot of social cues.

These things alone I could definitely see the "cold as ice" vibe that people have mentioned. I just know for some reason, there's more. But it's not my job to find that out. I have to remind myself constantly just to be the driver. I am not a detective anymore; there is nothing I need to pick apart. Just drive, Jane.

I receive the ready message four hours from the time she left the backseat and I am already pulling up in front of the salon. With her skin glowing from the body rub and fresh make up, she has given me the address for the next location for some lunch conference.

Cruising along the 90 on my way back from a last minute car swap, which on a good day with no traffic takes an hour to and from - luck had been on my side as I made it just minutes early. She was walking out of her lunch/meeting (I am always in the dark about things) from the Mandarin Oriental. I noticed her body language had changed considerably. Though seamlessly put together on the outside, the squared angles of her shoulders and elbows hooked to her sides, and the visible tightness in her jaw with a distant and almost warning look in the darkness of her usually illuminating hazel eyes gave me _that_ feeling in my gut. The feeling that I needed to something to make it right, an oath of protection to Miss Isles - I did my best to ignored it and tore my already dark eyes from the passenger side mirror. Two very well dressed men and some lady came walking out behind her and now they were all chit chatting in front of the building.

I watched her weight shift back sharply on her foot like she was ready to kick someone in the balls or run. I sprang into subtle action by exiting the car and walking to the passenger side door and opening it for her. She caught my sneering gaze at the rest of the people she was talking to and abruptly left the group headed in my direction.

I held my arm out to her so she could slip down in the front seat of the Aston Martin. My gloves! I totally forgot to put my gloves back on after I made a pit stop in my house before I brought out this gorgeous silver bullet from 1945. I started to panic as she put her hand on top of my bare and balled up fist as she stepped in and gave me a sideways glance with a hint of curiosity burning.

I wondered if she had felt my scars, or seen them. Or didn't even see them but was pissed off because I didn't have my damn driver's gloves on. I was horrified. I used my long stride to get around the front end of the car quickly and back into my position.

Being in this car in particular is odd as we are both sitting on the same bench front seat. I sucked up the shame threatening to fall from me as I removed the gloves from the inside pocket of my blazer and slid my hands back into my gear. I sped away with a little more gusto and hoped it didn't come to the dismay of my employer, who was still eyeing me from the corner.

"Miss Rizzoli," her voice calmly shattered the air around me. "I think I would just prefer to go home this afternoon."

"Yes," I switched up the GPS with just two clicks and steered the car in the requested direction, "Miss Isles, we will be there in thirty-five minutes."

"Thank you," she exhaled so heavily it nearly fogged up the window.

Usually she would be on her phone right now and not paying a damn bit of attention.

"You're welcome, Miss Isles." I wanted to fill the gap with more words but was unsure of what to say. "The weather," the dryness in my throat caused a raspier sound to my already gravely voice, "it is supposed to be in the seventies through the rest of the afternoon and clear skies this evening."

Then the strangest, most inexplicable thing happened. I pulled up to the stop light and took a chance to slightly dip my head in her direction to see her expression. She was looking right at me and had a smile on her face. A real one. Well… it looked real. There was a dimple on her left cheek I'd never seen before. Because I was a detective… and I notice those things... those types of things... I reasoned with myself. As soon as it had been there glowing on her face, it was gone and replaced by a scrutinizing look.

We drove the rest of the way in a deafening silence until I was reaching the large horseshoe shaped drive away that lead the major entrance of her house. "Miss Rizzoli, I know I said our day would be quite busy, but I do not see myself leaving the estate for the remainder of the day. I will work from home and should I require your assistance I will notify you in more than ample time."

Without a word and just a simple nod I was already around to her side of the car and opened the door. She fled from the seat quickly and bolted to the house without another glance in my direction. Like a robot, I pulled the car in the garage, stuck the key in the visor, and peeled myself away.

I needed to go on a run. The massive amount of land in the backyard was calling my name to circle lap after lap around it. The area was so green and so lush it just looked like an escape. I changed quickly into some looser clothing then the black slacks, black blazer, black button shirt, and black leather shoes that were my daily attire. I walked to the front porch, which faced the back of the Isles' house, and began a few stretches before I ran the stress out of my body.

I hated running. But it was a release of some sort with everything that I have weaving in and out of my head. I try to keep my mind as occupied as possible so I don't have to go to _that place_ again. It's too damn hard to pull myself out - I don't know if I have it in me one more time.

I kicked my leg up on the post of the porch and leaned in with a good pull in my hamstring then repeated the same action to the other leg. As soon as I am putting it back down on the ground I notice a figure in the distance approaching the garden to the right of me. I focus back on getting my muscles ready for torture until I hear my name being called by melodic voice.

"Miss Rizzoli?"

I instinctively jump over the front porch, with lithe footwork and ease, and come up to the gate. "Yes, Miss Isles, I am so sorry if you tried to contact me, I have my phone, it's fully charged as always, and the volume is all the way up..." I pulled the device from my zip pocket and showed her so she believed me.

She held her hands up with a gentleness, "no, I.. erm… I…" she looked disheveled, for once. No make up, relaxed clothing. She backed away cautiously, "this was a stupid idea, I am the sorry one."

"Wait… what?" I opened the gate and stepped through the small entry way. I tried to break the ice by gesturing to my neon blue v-neck shirt and grey shorts, "down time… I didn't really know what else to do so I was going to go on a run... Which I don't like to do…" I felt strange explaining this to her. But even stranger, I felt that I wanted to her know. "What's stupid?"

Her usual honey blonde and flawlessly flowing locks are tied back in a loose bun and she is wearing an oversized t-shirt and yoga pants. She looked… normal.

"I wanted to invite you in for a glass of wine." She mumbled.

I cocked my head to the side as if I was rattling the idea around.

"See? Stupid." Miss Isles turned to leave. This was so out of character for her. At second thought, I felt maybe she was trying to reach out to me, in some odd way. We're only two years apart in age and I am probably the most ordinary person she knows.

"Would you just like to come in?" I gestured to the guest house behind me. She knew better than I did the kind of wine that was stocked in there.

This thought didn't seem to occur to her as her feet took her before the rest of her body looked ready. "That would be lovely, thank you."

I closed the door behind us and made motion toward the kitchen. With a light and airiness to my voice to give the notion of the sarcasm, "well you designed it all, you know where the wine is."

"Oh, Miss Rizzoli, I would never, this is your home now and I would never touch any of your things without your permission."

I put my hand on her arm, "I was kidding…" I kindly offered, "it was only a joke. There actually is one that I have been eyeballing and think it might be pretty good… based on the bottle. And I thought the name was kind of cool…" I smiled and reached for the bottle in the kitchen and modeled it for _my_ guest. "It's called Acrobat… it's from Oregon... It's a pinot noir. Do you like that kind?" My childish like presentation of the bottle caused another glowing smile from her, this time, filling the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the reviews! Here's another chapter, please enjoy.

Chapter Three

"Yes." She said rather directly.

I schooled my features into an intrigued grin, prompting her to say more while gently nodding my head.

"I… Well I picked out those wines…" The blonde began while watching my head bobble up and down. "Because I enjoy them… all."

I placed the bottle on the counter with a triumphant smile. "Fantastic, I would have picked out a good one regardless."

What sounded like laughter fell from her chest and she immediately brought a shiny and manicured hand her mouth to cover the foreign sound. I turned away to look for a corkscrew and offer her the privacy of recovering from what appeared to be an embarrassing moment. I riffled through the first three drawers and came up empty with a shrug in my shoulders.

She cleared her throat and motioned with a cock of her head back toward the refrigerator. I looked at her with questioning eyes. She repeated the motion once again and I caught on.

"Right… That's what I needed, the corkscrew _magnet…_ on my fridge." I pulled it off the stainless steel door and placed it on the counter next to the bottle.

I knew she had to be watching the amount of hesitation I had while opening the contraption and probably the way I looked at it, as if it were an alien instrument. I had almost forgotten about the scars on my hands as a cramp tightened in my palm with the realization. The tool dropped to the quartz with a loud sputter.

"If I may," she slid forward and gestured for the wine opener.

"Please," I released a laugh and handed it over. "I'm a beer drinker…" I tried to explain while she wielded the opener with ease and grace.

Miss Isles chanced a gaze at my hands once more as she pulled the cork out, silently. "Cabinet to the right of the fridge, third shelf."

I smirked at her and turned to grab the wine glasses from the position she had just mentioned. She released the dark red liquid into a generous serving for each of us. I mimicked her swirling and sniffing motions with the glass and I knew she knew what I was doing by the shy grin on her face hidden in a downward cast stare to the countertop.

"As you can see, I do this all the time." I laughed nonchalantly as I drummed my index finger against the stemware.

Her smile fell to the ground quickly. "Thank you."

"Miss Isles," my voice croaked. Her face twitched at the name as if she had been slapped by a cold hand. "Actually," I coughed out, "can I call you Maura? I mean I just thought…" I gestured to the comfortable scene around us as if comparing it to the usual situation we find ourselves in.

"Please." She looked up to me with her eager hazel eyes.

"Maura," I rolled the name around in my mouth, "what shall we toast to?"

"To a real conversation," she said with a strong clink of her glass to mine.

I had motioned for us to sit on the couch with our drinks, then decided to open the double door to the porch so we could feel some of the warm May air breeze through. After getting settled on the furthest cushion from her, I contemplated where to begin this conversation.

We sat in silence for several moments while we sipped our wine. "That's actually pretty good!" I took another healthy sip. "Is this one of your favorites?"

"No…" she wavered, "I mean, yes I do like this wine a great deal, but there are just so many to choose from."

"Well you have me there," I grinned to her. Now that the ice was chipping away a little more, I decided to take a walk on it. "Which car is your favorite?" I nearly braced myself after asking the question.

"The 62' Spitfire." She said with zero hesitation.

"Huh… I would have never guessed that one. You've never requested it." I felt her pull away a little with my statement. "Not that I spend a whole lot of time guessing which one is your favorite… I just… there's not a lot of indication and I was just curious. Thank you for entertaining the question..." I sighed, "and I am sorry if overstepped any boundaries."

"You have not stepped over any boundaries, I assure you. I was merely reflecting on the car…" she sipped her glass thoughtfully. "It was my father's favorite too."

"It's okay to miss him, Maura. What about your mother, are you two..?

The blonde scoffed at my question before garnering her response. "No, I haven't spoken to my mother since the day of my father's funeral, nearly a year ago. She busies herself around Europe working on 'relations' for the company." I slowly nodded my head with the realization of Miss Isles' words and felt as if she had more to say. "She was against my wishes to not follow in father's footsteps. I didn't want any of this. But I wouldn't have been allowed to see him after his passing and at his funeral unless I took over. She did that to me. My mother. An ultimatum like that."

The fashionista took a gulp of her wine before continuing, her posture on the overstuffed couch was beginning to look too rigid and stiff. "My father, Arthur, he knew I didn't want to be a part of the company. He was proud of me, proud of what I did before this and how I got there by myself."

"What did you do before this?" I was intrigued.

"I was a pathologist."

I nearly fell of the couch. "What?"

"A pathologist is…"

"I know what it is, Maura," I used her name again just to watch the smile form on her face. "How did I not know this about you?"

"Not many do." She was becoming increasingly shy. "Just those that worked with me in the London Forensics Department for the few years I was there."

"Wow…" I was flabbergasted, absolutely blown away and words were just not registering with me. "So… huh… that is…" I took a sip to cleanse my mind. "Well now that almost a year has passed, what's stopping you now?"

Her whole body seemed to have deflated with the words I chose to say.

"I mean…" I tried to cover up for a mishap I wasn't even sure of, "I know you have a status to maintain, and clients, and stuff. But what's really stopping you?" I was hoping my curiosity was being conveyed as I had intended it to with an increasingly concerned tone.

"Everything." She exhaled a breath from deep within the caverns of her chest.

We let the silence hum between us while we stared away from each other. She had opened up to me about so much just now, an overwhelming amount really, and I wasn't sure what to do with it. I wanted to comfort her, but not cross the line and found myself in a battling limbo of the two notions.

"Is it because you can't drive?" I can't believe I said that. My brain completely took over and now I am an idiot for saying that. It happened so quickly I didn't even have a chance to stop myself from muttering this.

Then the most magical sound filled the room. Belly laughter. She was leant back on the couch, gently cradling her glass with one hand so to not spill, and holding her cramped-with-laughter stomach. It sounded like music. The more she heard herself laugh, the harder she laughed. It was the most refreshing thing to see and had me in a small fit of the giggles myself until I drained the rest of my wine.

"Oh my goodness," she dabbed the moisture at the corner of her eyes, "I have missed laughter… and real conversation." Her voice was nearly out of breath and ragged sounding now.

"Well I'll cheers to that again." I wound up my hand and got ready to clink my glass against hers.

"Oh no, you shouldn't toast to something with an empty glass. It's impolite."

I thought this over until it made sense, I supposed.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," she was so matter of fact. "Yes and I can't lie, so of course it is so."

I was still recoiling from her last statements and managed to find this insanely intriguing. "You can't… lie?"

"No. I break out into hives and have a vasovagal reaction."

Though I would never admit this to anyone, I knew what that word meant. I experienced vasovagal syncope for a short period of time after the Hoyt dealings. "So do you turn bright red first or faint first?"

The subtle multimillionaire seemed a bit surprised that I knew what that word meant. "Hives, hives come first, usually."

I brought my voice to low mumble while shifting my weight on the couch to help cover some of the sound, "bet that must make your job very difficult."

"You have no idea," she heard my muffled words then emptied the contents of her glass down her throat.

"More wine?" We stood from the couch at the same time.

My employer looked somewhat torn momentarily, "I shouldn't," she sighed, "I do have some things to get back to."

I stood with an understanding, today was supposed to be different. "What made today busier than normal?"

"There are certain people that are picked out for me to spend my time with… especially on days like my birthday." She looked down with a sadness that tugged at me.

"Well then, birthday girl, please join me to finish that bottle of wine and sit in the two rocking chairs out front…. Never used. First rocks." I looked to her hopefully.

I could tell she was really thinking about it, really weighing the options.

"When was the last time you did something like this?" My voice was low and crackled as I finished the question.

"Never." She looked like she had been kicked repeatedly. It made me wonder how long she was waiting to reach out to someone… or the last time she actually did. If ever.

I smiled at her. "Perfect, let's go."

We found ourselves comfortably seated in the bright blue, brand spankin' new, rocking chairs. A long and harmonious sigh fell from her lips after she finished wiggling into place. Miss Isles and I sat in a contented silence for a long moment. I took the time to reflect over all the things I just learned about her. How could I have been so wrong about her? She was… different. It was refreshing. She didn't want this life, it fell into her lap and she has been dealing with it to the best of her abilities. It was crushing her. That's what it was. The disturbed quietness, the disconnect, the body language. Now here she was, unwrapped, and she couldn't look more different than she did an hour ago.

"She arrived in Boston this evening."

I wasn't even positive who she was referring to but heard the near terror in her voice. "Who did?"

"My mother."

"Oh?"

"Tomorrow will be… difficult. To say the least."

I stopped my rocking motions. "Maura," I touched her arm and immediately drew my hand back, "we have some time until tomorrow happens. Let's enjoy what we have left until then."

She nodded with a compliant smile and what appeared to be tears in her eyes. "Please."

A few beats of rocking noises commenced before I began to speak again. "So you never answered my question earlier. You just broke out into hysterical laughter and I was pretty sure you were going to start hyperventilating or something."

I could tell she was beginning to understand which question I was referring to as a shy grin crossed her face. "I haven't driven in quite some time. About ten years, give or take."

"What happened ten years ago that required you to have a personal driver at all times?"

"I was not a very good driver and my father had rather expensive cars."

Now it was my turn to belly laugh into the night.

"Well, I could teach you. If you wanted…" I offered as we waited for my laughter to die down.

She finished the rest of her wine. "I think I may take you up on that one day, Miss Rizzoli."

"Jane," I instantly corrected her.

"I look forward to you teaching me how to drive, Jane," she tasted my name as if it were foreign and was deciding on how she felt about the texture. "I wonder if we need a test car first?"

I cleared the rest of my drink and looked at her with new eyes, "I am pretty good teacher, Maur', I think we should try the Spitfire."

"I will hold you to that, Jane," she stood with reluctance. "And for now, I want to thank you."

"Thank me for what? You picked out the wine." I tossed a smirk her way to keep things light. "I want to thank you for turning this into a wonderful birthday."

"It is my pleasure. I hope the rest of your evening pans out famously and you're able to seek some more happiness. If not, you know where I live."

An awkwardness surrounded us as we slowly stepped down the front stairs and I continued to follow behind her until we reached the gate on the front lawn. "Honestly, thank you, Jane. You have made this one certainly memorable."

"Happy Birthday, Maura. Thank you for choosing me to spend the evening with, you make me feel like the lucky one."

"Oh I don't know about that," she took a step out of the gate.

"Well I do." I watched her unwillingly walk down the path sideways as we finished the last bits of a conversation we weren't ready to end.

"We will need to rock those again," she pointed the chairs behind me, "just to make sure they still work after this evening."

I gave her a Jane Rizzoli thousand watt smile before turned out of sight, "deal!"


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the wait and thank you so much for your reviews and feedback!

Chapter Four

They are nearly identical, with the exception of the twenty-five year age difference. I had just dropped off Miss Isles to have brunch with her mother, Constance Isles, and was able to capture a view of her from inside the hotel restaurant. After almost a year of not seeing each other their double-cheek kiss was anything but warm and inviting.

If that were my mother she would be on the curb waiting to squeeze her arms around me and then yell at me and scold me for not keeping in touch. I felt myself naturally smile at this notion and decided it was time to give her a call.

When I left, I was quick to get out with promising to keep in touch. Normally this wouldn't have been the case and I'd still be in Chicago. My mother is the best at laying guilt trips to convince anyone to do one thing or another. She's definitely a pro. But under the circumstances in which I was leaving, I think she was a little bit more willing to let me go, get over the trauma I had just experienced, get away from the force, get a new surrounding, and just step away. I explained to her it might be a while before I call, but I promised to do so. I veered to the right off of Commonwealth Drive and headed to a little bagel shop I hadn't tried yet to get some coffee and breakfast and give my mom a call. It was ten o'clock our time on the East Coast which made it an hour earlier in Chicago. Maybe I'd wait a bit.

I walked into the busy morning madness of the breakfast spot and was assaulted by the smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee. My mouth watered and stomach growled. After about fifteen minutes of waiting I finally had my order and headed to the only empty high top table in the corner to quickly scarf this down before calling my mother then driving back to wait for Miss Isles.

I liked the Back Bay area a lot, parts of it really remind me of back home and I find myself comforted and feel a little less foreign in this area. I was finishing the last bit of my coffee as I strolled back to the car, meandering through the small crowd of students and people lining the sidewalk on this bustling Wednesday morning. A pair of well dressed men were gesturing wildly right off the side of the street. It was difficult to hear what they were arguing about, but it seemed to be over a parking spot.

The older looking of the two gave the younger one a light shove and I felt my impulses wanting to intervene immediately. I slowly strode over to them in hopes that their disagreement would die down before I needed to act. When I had come up just yards away a sharp bolt pierced the air and I recognized the sound all too well. "Gun!" I shouted just in time to see the younger of the two men falling to the ground with a hole of blood oozing from his chest. The shrieks and screaming had been muffled behind me as I rushed to the two. The older gentleman had paled and his hands were tossed in the air, shaking uncontrollably.

"We… we.. were.. we were just fighting about the spot… I didn't… I did not… I didn't do this… Oh my god… He's dead! Is he dead?!" He was on the verge of fainting while I yelled at him to sit on the curb as I pulled my phone from my pocket calling 911.

"I need an ambulance, Commonwealth just west of Kenmore near the entrance of Eastern Standard. A man mid to late thirties has a GSW to the chest. Shooter is no where near. The victim appears to be bleeding out."

Minutes had passed until a squad of sirens came flying toward us. I had removed my blazer and was using it to help stop the bleeding. The man I told to take a spot on the curb nearly jumped out of his skin when five sets of tires came to a screeching halt. I was quickly ushered off to the side to be checked out by the EMTs after they took notice of trace amounts of blood splattered on me from helping the victim.

While they took my blood pressure I checked my phone to see several messages from my employer. I took a deep breath and called her immediately.

"Miss Isles, please let me…." I was cut off.

"Miss Rizzoli, I have been trying to get a hold of you for the past ten minutes to no avail. Your promptness was delicately outlined on day one of your employment. Do you care to explain yourself?" Her voice was cold and hard to swallow. Before I could respond EMTs and officers were chatting around me with their radios constantly going off, making it difficult to form a sentence. "Miss Rizzoli… are you alright? Are you in danger?" A rushed and compassionate tone switched on in her voice.

I cleared my throat, "I was leaving Finagle a Bagel and watched a man get shot in the chest… I tried to stop the bleeding while I called for help… I am still on the scene waiting for officers and detectives who I know will wish to speak with me to get my statement and my eye-witness account," I peered around to see them zipping up the victim in black bag, "of the man that just died… I am so sorry I wasn't able to get a hold of you and was just able to check my phone now… I am so.."  
"Oh my goodness, Jane… Please… Where are you right now?"

I gave her my location and she said she would by shortly. While sitting on the back of one of the ambulances I took in the scene around with a closer eye. There were things I was noticing now as my head snapped around to each direction of where exactly the man was standing when he was shot. My brain started to roll and process just as it used to - taking into account everything from the cracks in the sidewalks to the lights hanging from poles.

"Ma'am," an older man in a gray suit with equally graying hair approached me along with a younger black man in a nice blue suit. They held out their badges, "I'm Detective Korsak and this is my partner Detective Frost," he paused to let me take in their titles and commit them to memory, "do you mind if we ask you a few questions regarding this incident?"

"No not at all. My name is Jane Rizzoli, I was approaching the victim and that man," I pointed to him on the curb still shaking, "while they were in a disagreement about a parking spot. He shoved the victim but that was as violent as he got. He had nothing to do with this, just wrong place, wrong time. I saw it all. This was premeditated by someone else, and they must have been pretty far away… here look," I pointed to six sniper's ribbons along the street, "you see what those are?"

Both detectives nodded. "You seem to know more than you're letting on Miss Rizzoli," the detective called Frost started in on me with just enough accusation in his tone.

"Chicago PD, Homicide… Detective Rizzoli…. Formerly…"

"Jane?" A voice from beyond the caution tape called to me. "Jane?"

I moved between the two men and lifted the tape for her, "Miss Isles, I am fine."

She inspected me closely - checking my hands, avoiding any contact with my scars, rolling my sleeves to see if the blood on them belonged to me, pulling the collar to my shirt back and checking my pulse.

"Detective Rizzoli," the older man looked between Miss Isles and I while her eyes went wide at the use of my name.

"I'm not a detective anymore." I kept my eyes pinned on my employer.

"Once a detective, always a detective." He slid his business card in my line of sight, "give me a call," he slowly turned away with his partner in tow.

"Jane?"

"Maura, I'm okay, I promise. It's all from the victim." I took a deep breath. "How did you get you here?"

"I walked here, of course. Nearly ran."

I looked down at her shoe choice with a grin, "in those?!"

She mimicked the grin on my face until it fell into a fearful look, "I was really worried…"

"Let me drive you home."

"Are you okay to drive, Miss Rizzoli?"

"Miss Isles, I can assure you I am better off driving than you are." I smirked.

A ghost of smile graced her features as we turned to leave. The detectives caught my retreating form with a nod in my direction.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

We drove back to the estate in a contemplative silence - the events prior unfolding around us in a cautious cloud. I could hear her thoughts racing as quickly as mine were. I was trying my best to redirect and refocus my feelings from the crime scene I was just in… which didn't shellshock me as much as I would have thought after all this time away from the force. I felt I had reached a new level of healing after the Hoyt ordeal. My scars didn't ache like they had before in stressful situations – it was more of a slight itch in which I was still too unsure of how to scratch.

Neither of us had uttered a word in the twenty miles I had driven thus far. I needed some distraction. The atmosphere in this high price Benz was getting too foggy so I cleared my throat to rid through some of the thickening air. "Miss Isles…"

From the back seat a subtle whimper traveled to my ears, "Jane… please…"

I knew immediately she wanted to peel back the layers of herself. She didn't want to be elitist I drove around every day, she wanted a confidant. She wanted the woman that made her laugh yesterday for the first time in years, not the intense and brooding chauffeur dressed in black. I think she liked how I said her first name – upon uttering the five simple letters anyone, perhaps, could see a visible difference in her demeanor. A deep breath found its way through my lungs. "How was your breakfast with your mother after all this time, Maura?"

"Awful." A shy grin found its way into the rear-view mirror when I peeked to see her reaction to my question. "Just as I anticipated."

A shot a smirk back to her reflection and added with a chuckle, "well, I am glad to hear things went as you expected."

Boundaries between us were crumbling quickly. Her brashness when I wasn't able to answer her calls before has since then been made up completely. An understanding was enveloping us, a friendship even. I was nervously curious to see where it would take us. I never thought I would feel such a connection with this socialite. We are from two entirely different backgrounds, but just something about this bond between Maura and I makes the strangest bit of sense to me. Not everything between us has to be explained – it's intention, thought, implication... I think we just _get_ each in this world that we share that is otherwise so damn confusing.

Her gaze shifted between the passing trees in the tinted window and down to her hands in an almost mechanical looking way. My conscious tugged at me to ask her, "What's on your mind?"

Hypnotizing hazel eyes found mine in the mirror, "tell me about your family, Jane… You know plenty about mine," she added with a mumble.

"Oh there's nothing exciting to tell…" I wanted to add that we were just a pretty normal family but I thought better of those words and had a stirring feeling they would have offended her in a way I couldn't understand. Her eyes prompted me in the rear-view and I rolled mine in a playful manner. "Well, my parents married a year before I was born… so coming up to thirty three years… Dad's a plumber, my mom works at a café in a police department. Two brothers, one's a cop, the other works with my father on and off. Grew up the Edison Park neighborhood in Chicago – it's on the north side…" I trailed off with a stinging of home sickness in the pit of my stomach.

"You miss it." She didn't hesitate, didn't question, and just made the simple statement.

The sting spread through the rest of my body as we drove the remainder of the way in another weighty silence. Before I knew it I was curving the car around the horseshoe driveway and shifting into park.

I swiftly opened the blonde's door and she stepped out with a slow and methodic approach to the curb. After making three heel-clicks away, she turned to me as I made my way back around to the driver's seat.

"Jane… would it be all right if I stopped by later?"

I cheerfully smiled in her direction, "I was hoping you would."

She shyly nodded and turned back to the main entrance of the estate. I waited until she crossed the threshold before I drove to the garage to park this Benz until the next request.

I never thought of myself as a bath person. But as I climbed from the cooling water of the giant tub for the hundredth time since I have moved here I can't remember ever not enjoying this experience. I hugged myself in a towel and headed to the vanity bench to apply some lotion and comb my hair while I stewed in the steam wafting around the spa-like bathroom for a moment longer. Rejuvenation was curling around the goose pimples on my clean skin and excitement for the evening was beginning to spread across my lips. Maura Isles was anything else but what the media portrayed her as. She was shy, but kind. Standoffish, maybe, but because she didn't belong in the world she was put in. She had this quiet brilliance about her. I could see how this would be off putting for many, but I enjoyed it. I wanted to know about the _real_ her.

I flipped the vent on and opened the door the let some the steam dissipate while I dressed myself in some sweatpants and a tank top. As soon as I emerged from my bedroom I caught a view of the top of a honey-blonde head swaying underneath the window in the kitchen. I smiled inwardly. She was in one of the rocking chairs already. I wondered how long she had been out there, staring pensively into the acres of yard around.

I pulled the back door open, "why hello there Miss Isles." I grinned at her while tying my damp hair back into a clip.

"Well good evening Miss Rizzoli, I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"Absolutely not, come on in, let's pick out some wine." I motioned for her to come inside.

As she stood, also in relaxed clothing – fancy yoga pants and oversized shirt, she picked up a canvas tote bag and slung it over her shoulder while pacing into the kitchen.

"I hope you don't mind… I brought some... Just some… well here look," she emptied the contents onto the counter. Pulling a wooden cutting board from one of the drawers in the island, she placed an array of cheeses, crackers, and grapes and showed me the beautiful presentation. "To go with our wine…" hesitation discolored her features, "I hope that's okay…"

"This looks delicious! I'm pretty starved, so it's perfect, thank you." I scooped one thing from each row and shoved it in my mouth. While in the midst of chewing I asked her to pick out the best wine to accompany this snack. I was hoping my casual reactions would help to make her feel more comfortable, confident. After she flawlessly opened the bottle and poured a nice amount into each of our glasses, we ventured outside and gave few sways in our respective chairs.

"Ahh… This is the life, isn't it?" I squinted with the resting sun and peered in her direction waiting for the squares in her shoulders to round out and relax.

Her eyes were strained on the floor of the porch while she spoke, "I have been looking forward to this all day."

"Me too, Maur."

She blushed at the nickname I just used. "You make everything so normal. I don't know how you do it. Thank you… Jane."

I smiled with her, unsure of what to say. Instead, I shoved another handful of cheese plate into my mouth while sipping from the glass of wine.

"Damn, you really can pair food and wine. Maybe that's what you should do instead."

She coughed a laugh out, "Yes, maybe. Sounds like a much less stressful life."

"I'll say!" I chuckled into my glass, "Munching on fancy cheeses and getting toasted all day… no stress at all." We laughed together for a moment to let another level of calm consume us. We slumped in our chairs a bit more and kept a consistent rocking back and forth. "What did you really want to be when you were younger?"

"A ballet dancer."

"Huh… Really? I wouldn't have guessed that."

"I did ballet for quite some years when I was younger until I overheard my mother making mention to my teacher that either she was awful instructor or I was awful dancer... So that dream died rather quickly."

I puffed out a grunt in response to this.

"What about you, what did you want to be?"

I halted my rocking motions, "I wanted to be a cop."

"Oh."

Deafening silence roared around our conversation.

"I'm sorry, Jane, forgive me if my question was too intrusive." I could feel her pulling herself back into her shell.

I lifted myself from the slumped position I had slid into, "no, Maur, I'm sorry. I think I am being too sensitive about things… But yeah… I wanted to be a cop my whole life. And I was. A damn good one too if I do say so myself. Straight out of high school until about a year and a half ago."

She allowed me revel in the memory before letting her inquiry take over. "What happened, Jane?"

I sighed. Then sighed again. "I made a very big mistake. It almost cost me my life." I watched Maura's eyes cast from my hands and back to my face. "Yeah. That's why."

"I don't ever want to you to feel pressured to tell me, but please know I really am willing to listen… Judgment free."

Looking her square in the eyes I believed her. I saw only honesty, certainty, and concern. "Maybe one day Maura… But not today. Let's enjoy this," I waved my hand across the span of space around us, "and each other's company."

A large breath she had been holding was slowly coming out and forming a tedious smile across her lips. "I'd like nothing more than that, Jane." She placed a hand on my knee with a soft squeeze and a crinkle of her nose as I was simultaneously filled with a warm and vibrant sensation across my covered skin. I looked back to her and notice she is staring deeply at my dimples that just couldn't help themselves. "You bring out a side to me that I have certainly missed." A subtle clearing of her throat warns me she is going to become rather serious for a moment. Though, instead of carrying on, her silence speaks for itself.

"What do you have on schedule for tomorrow?"

"My mother has a modern art installation that I am required to attend in the evening, but other than that, nothing. Why, do you have plans?"

I snorted at her question. "Well, if you have nothing pressing in the morning, how about that driving lesson?"

Her eyes went wide with the suggestion. "Oh I don't know if I am ready yet…"

"You will never know until you try."

"I suppose you're right." She brought a perfect fingertip to her mouth and bit the nerves out of it. "Okay! Let's do it!"

Surprised, I placed my glass on the edge of the table between us and moved a scarred hand to the nylon and spandex pant covering her leg. "You'll be great, Maur."

Another wall had toppled over between us as her hazel eyes sparkled in my direction. "You make me feel like I will be."

"I bet there's nothing you couldn't do."

"That is certainly not true… I really was awful at ballet."

We laughed easily into the night until we emptied the bottle of wine and cleared the cheese plate. I had told her about the high school version of me, how much of a helicopter mother I had (and still have), and some of the good days on the force back in Chicago. Maura in addition to had admitted several things about her past including tidbits from her childhood spent in boarding school and how nasty all the girls were there. Also about some of her wilder moments in college where she came out of her shell just enough to form some good memories, and one small tattoo that she refused to tell me where and what it was. I'm not sure if she was meaning to intrigue me as much as I was, or if it was the alcohol, but a big part of me was going to spend the rest of the night wondering.

It was coming to a point where the crickets around us were louder than our conversation, though we were both reluctant to call an end to the evening. When she went to leave, we clumsily sized each other up and down as if we were going to hug goodbye, though we didn't. The awkwardness surrounded us both with timid smiles. She had descended the several steps and was halfway down the path when I came bouncing down the stairs behind her.

"Now Miss Isles, you have had quite a bit to drink tonight, you can barely hold yourself up," I was beside her holding my arm in an L-shape, "please, let me assist you on your walk home."

She gave me toothy grin and hooked her arm with mine. "How chivalrous, Miss Rizzoli. Though, you've had just as much to drink as I. So if you feel a fall coming over you, please, don't take me down as you go."

"I make no promises, Miss Isles." We practically giggled the short walk back to the main estate where I watched her disappear in the enormous house, a hint of melancholy washing over me.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

After forty-five minutes of my phone resting against the same ear, I stood with stiff limbs and switched sides. I had been on the phone with my mother all morning. She was going on and on about my youngest brother Tommy getting thrown into jail after nearly running over our childhood priest in a crosswalk while he was half in the bag. Two years ago she would have made up every excuse in the book to vouch for his actions instead of hearing the amount of disappointment draining from her voice. "Well Ma, he needs to straighten out and grow up. Being a part of pop's business hasn't done him any good, he needs to be his own man…." I listened to her ramble protective words for him still, "well, he may be your baby boy, but he is also twenty-seven years old and needs to get his shit together…. Yeah, yeah… sorry Ma…. Yeah I know…" I had paced from the couch in the living room to the kitchen and back again ten times while she then went on to complain about my father.

After a while, our conversation was going in circles and it was strange to hear my mother avoid talking about something. But I knew she was. Silence tugged on the line in a crackling connection. "Ma… I miss you. And pop. And Frankie and Tommy. I miss you all."

Once she said the words "oh Janie" I clenched my jaw to hold the tears from falling. "I want you to come visit… see my little house. It's… it's amazing actually. You would love the bathroom. And the place is super cute. Miss Isles decorated it herself… She's totally got an eye for this kinda of stuff… Yeah… like all those TV shows you watch…." I knew her brief pause meant she had a bundle of questions for me but was mentally fighting with herself over the first one to ask. Instead, I offered more insight. "She really is pretty cool… And not at all like everyone makes her out to be. She's really nice… and the past couple nights we have sat outside and had some nice conversations... And this morning I was supposed to give her some driving instructions with her favorite car but it has been storming pretty bad so both decided it was best to postpone until a nicer day… Yeah… No… I have been hanging out around the house all day… some laundry… some cleaning… just keeping myself busy…"

We had gone on for another half hour until I could no longer hold the phone to my ear. I promised to call more often and was serious about her coming to visit. She would like it here. And with my Pop and Tommy getting under her skin like they do, she could use the break. She had made mention about doing double shifts at the café she was working at which made me think they were struggling financially a little bit, or she was doing whatever she could to avoid being around my father.

Either way, I knew I needed to keep in touch more. Especially now that I feel like I have found my footing, somewhat, in this new life. I wanted my mom to see it, to see me in this light. I wracked my brain for the proper wording to bring up to Miss Isles about taking a weekend off so I could host my mother. I didn't know how to approach the subject… or if it was allowed. Time off had never been discussed.

As I let my mind wander, I felt the sharp buzz of the phone in my hand bringing me back to reality. "Good afternoon Miss Isles, how can I be of assistance?"

She mimicked my feigned professionalism with a ghost of smile in her voice, "Miss Rizzoli, I was wondering if I may stop by for a moment to discuss something with you?"

"Of course."

"I will be there shortly."

I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat as if she could hear my thoughts about wanting to take some time off soon. Strangely, I wanted to take the time off, but I didn't want to be away from her.

I went back to folding my clean laundry and picking up and organizing some loose items around my house until a soft knock on the front door tore me from the mundane tasks that I chose to keep me busy. On the other side of the door stood the honey blonde - an umbrella over her head and a floor-length gray and sleek looking raincoat. I motioned for her to come in while she left her wet outer layers on the covered front porch.

She was wearing form-fitting black jeans and a gold sweater than hung off her shoulders. Even with this casual look, she looked absolutely dazzling. "I love the rain, but I wish it happened later in the day so we were able to go on the drive this morning."

I moved my laundry basket from the end of the couch and offered her a spot to sit. "There will be other days, don't think you're getting off too easily," I winked at her.

She timidly laughed before trying to collect herself. "Though I am increasingly nervous about driving, I trust that you will be more than capable teacher…"

"Just not in the rain?" I playfully probed. "You said you wanted to discuss something?"

"Oh yes," she clapped her hands together on her lap and straightened her posture. "Tonight is my mother's installation of modern art and instead of attending the event with the person my mother had chosen for me yesterday… I was hoping you would accompany me. Please, feel free to say no." She paused to let her question marinate.

"Sure, I'd love to." She seemed surprised by my answer. "I mean, I have no idea what modern art is or what even constitutes it, but… Sure!"

"Really? Great! Okay," she breathed a sigh of relief.

"What do I need to wear? Is this a formal occasion?"

Miss Isles bit her lip and scrunched her face together. "Yes."

By the reaction to her answer I knew she could see the fear etching across my face. "I don't think I have anything that would be suitable enough to wear, I'm afraid…"

"Well, I will need to pick my dress up an hour before – I will make a call and have something put aside for you as well." I tried to tell her no but one firm hand up in the air stopped me from being able to. "Nonsense. I have a knack for knowing sizes." I watched her eye me up and down a few times and felt utterly vulnerable. "I will also make sure it is _not_ a dress."

This is awkward. So awkward. We are in the back of a town car together being driven by someone else. I know I haven't been working for her for years or anything, but after six and half months or so of driving everywhere, every kind of car, all different kinds of roads, being in a backseat of any car is a strange feeling. And unfamiliar. When my employer gave me a five minute notice that someone else would be driving today so I didn't have to worry, that's the only thing I could do. And it wasn't even a car from her collection. I hadn't even realized my leg was shaking so hard the windows were beginning to rattle.

"Miss Rizzoli," the honey blonde placed a hand on my vibrating kneecap.

I stopped immediately and looked at her with widened eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that." I mumbled and twisted my arms together across my chest. She removed her hand with a giggle and I looked to her with an all too serious expression.

Her smile didn't falter, though it did reach her hazel eyes with a sparkle, "Please, try to relax."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for the remainder of the drive. Luckily, only moments later the car came to a rolling stop. I jumped out from the backseat as if it were on fire so I could open the door for Miss Isles. She nodded a thank you while leading the way to a boutique across the street.

I suddenly felt like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman when she walked into one of the Beverly Hills dress shops and was treated horribly for not being one of those nose-in-the-air women. Miss Isles had even told me to stop fidgeting at least three times upon coming up to the entrance.

The welcome she received from the woman behind the counter was familiar and warm with a hint of small talk thrown in there. Based on what they were saying, it had been a while since she had been here and the designer was eager to have Miss Isles back in this label.

"Now this must be Miss Rizzoli?" Both of their focuses shifted to me, standing uncomfortably in the middle of the boutique, looking around and knowing I didn't belong here.

"Yes," Maura said with what sounded like a sense of pride.

"She is exquisite… looks like one of Alejandro's models – a Greek goddess…"

Now I felt like I was under a microscope and scoffed at the statement made by this platinum blonde fashion designer who didn't know a thing about me.

"She is very beautiful, yes," Maura redirected after feeling the discomfort emanating from me. "May we see what you have prepared?"

The woman cleared her throat ungraciously, "Certainly, Miss Isles you are in room number 2 and Miss Rizzoli in room number 4."

I looked at my employer with questioning eyes while she led the way to the back. Our rooms were right next to each other, separated by a thin wall and a white curtain acting as the door. Maura peeled back the drape and motioned for me to go in. There were three pant suits hanging to left that I assumed were for me. They were masculine enough, but a touch of femininity. I was surprised and delighted with the designs. She was right – she definitely has a knack for this. Part of me wondered what Miss Isles was going to wear.

I was skeptical about this _modern art_ from the get go, but seeing a chandelier of clear water bottles hanging from the ceiling, piles of rocks stacked in the corner, and laser lights flashing in odd formations against a giant blank canvas, I knew this _art_ was not for me. Miss Isles would occasionally chuckle at the incredulous look on my face as I scanned the floor. She looked more gorgeous tonight than all the other dolled up evenings I had dropped her off at. Maybe because I was right next to her so it made things a little different this time around.

"How about a drink?" She offered.

I looked to where the bar was, "Please, allow me. What can I get you to drink?"

"Let me accompany you over there," here face contorted ever so slightly as she looked around the bar and then brought her eye contact back to me.

"Miss Isles, I will be fine. What would you like to drink?"

"Jane…" she warned with a mischievous tone.

"Maura." I copied her voice.

"Champagne, please."

I nodded my head in compliance as my long legs carried me to the bar. I knew I had turned some heads as I bellied up to the counter. I had chosen the black pants suit with red lapels and red stitching with sleek ankle high black and shiny boots. I'm sure there were fancy names for all the items I was wearing, though I didn't have a clue. But I felt good, I felt cool in a way, and my confidence was soaring in these clothes that felt like a second skin.

As I began my stride back to the main floor where Maura was with a flute of bubbly in each of my hands, I noticed someone approaching her. It was her mother. I stood back to give them a moment but was still within earshot. I didn't want to listen, but I did.

"Another wonderful installation mother, well done."

"Maura, dear, what is this I hear about you not taking Camille as your date this evening?" Her mother paused her British accent before continuing with her impertinent tone. "I saw her by the Valetti Amoni presentation with Elena. And who is that woman that you brought here, which agency is she with? I don't recognize her."

The posture of my employer went rigid quickly and I knew this was time to intervene. "Miss Isles," I presented her flute to her and offered the other to her mother who took it quickly from my grasp.

"Maura, don't be impolite, introduce to me your stunning date."

God, this woman was incorrigible. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from trying to say anything. I didn't know how long I would be able not to.

"Mother, this is Jane. Jane Rizzoli."

She held her hand out for a limp shake, "Pleased to meet you. And thank you for having us at your installation this evening. It certainly is eye opening to say the least."

Constance peered at me in scrutiny while she regarded my words. "Maura, faites-moi savoir quand vous avez fini de jouer avec cette femme, j'ai une poignée de femme européenne qui cherchent à avoir la chance avec vous."

My employer stiffened at this, though before she had a chance to respond, I felt the need to step in. I placed an arm around her waist and pulled her into me as close as possible - her deeply red dress meshing with my suit jacket in perfect form and then traced my hand up and down the exposed skin of her back, "Si cela ne vous dérange pas, je préférerais la ramener à la maison pour le reste de la soirée et créer un art moderne de notre choix."

I guided us away with the drop of her mother's jaw, my arm still laced around Maura's waist. Before we exited through the grand doors in which we entered, I tipped my head to a server emerging from a service door. "Where can I get an ice cold beer around here?"

The waitress looked between Maura and me with a roguish grin. "The Dirty Robber, it's on the corner, take a left out of the door here. Can't miss it."

I gestured a thank you while we exited.

When we had paced half a block away I dropped my arm that was comfortably wrapped around her and she spoke for the first time. "I didn't know you speak French…"

I stopped my footwork abruptly, "I didn't know you date women."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips just as mine began to do the same. "How about that beer, Miss Rizzoli?"

I nodded and continued forward with that grin fully stretching across my face.

 _*_ _Faites_ _-moi savoir quand vous avez fini de jouer avec cette femme, j'ai une poignée de femme européenne qui cherchent à avoir la chance avec vous_ … Let me know when you are done playing around with this woman, I have a handful of proper European women who are looking to have the chance with you

*Si cela ne vous dérange pas, je préférerais la ramener à la maison pour le reste de la soirée et créer un art moderne de notre choix…. If you do not mind, I would prefer to take her home for the remainder of the evening and create some modern art of our own


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Now this place is my speed. No bells, no whistles, a juke box, a long mahogany bar, and what appeared to be a mix of cops and blue collar locals. I pointed out a pair of empty chairs on the end of the small part of the L-shaped bar. Sliding the barstool back, I encouraged my pseudo date, Miss Isles, to take seat. She appeared to be both apprehensive and daring as she nuzzled into the leather and wood. Though this place was way more up my alley than the event down the street, we were far overdressed for the occasion and it was taking notice with the other patrons of this pub.

"What can I get yas?" The bartender tossed coasters in front of each of us.

I looked to Miss Isles and by the wide eyes darting around the room, I knew she clearly was out of her element. "Two Sam Adams please." The twist and snap of the bottle caps was like music to my ears. I smiled at the fidgety blonde next to me as the lagers were placed in front of us. "Oh yes." My mouth watered.

I held the beverage by it's neck and motioned for Maura to do the same. "Boston Lager," she inspected the label.

"Have you ever tried it?"

She laughed, "No, no I have never tried this… Or any other kind of beer."

"Perfect," I clinked the bottles together and took a nice long sip, draining nearly half the drink in one go.

The misplaced fashion icon took a small, delicate sip. "Huh." She took another, this time a longer albeit still delicate pull. "That's pretty good!"

I bounced my head up and down proudly, looking forward to a second one soon enough. As we continued our first round we each scanned the scene around us and took in the clientele and general ambiance of this establishment. The place was relatively busy, each of the booths had been filled out, just a small handful of empty tables left in the middle, and a select few single barstools pushed back to make room for standers. This place reminded me of the bars I frequented back home. As I made another visual pass around the room and then back again, Maura made the slightest of movements and caught my eyes.

"What other language do you speak?"

I timorously smiled deep enough to expose my dimples. Though I may be rather headstrong and quick to act, I was now increasingly bashful the more she inspected me with her directness.

"How long have you been dating women?"

"I asked you first."

"My grandmother…" I began, but first emptied my beer and shook the empty bottle at the barkeep that noticed me and grabbed another. "My mom's mom… She was a world traveler… and picked up languages that she wanted to instill into her children. She thought in particular French and Italian were of the most beautiful. French, because she had spent a lot of time there in her youth, and Italian, because, well, that's our heritage. She believed you couldn't be proud unless you spoke the language. Not that I totally agree with her or anything… but it is nice knowing how to say things… and being able to tell people off in style."

Maura puffed out a laugh at this, "Well you certainly get points for style, Jane." She polished off the rest of her beer to my surprise. "I can't believe you told my mother that."

I fought with myself and replayed the events through my head several more times. Shame and embarrassment were starting to seep in my memories. "I'm sorry, Maur."

Before I could wallow too much, she grabbed my hands, rotating the stool in her direction. She placed her stiletto-heeled foot on the bottom ledge of my chair and squeezed my hands softly in her grasp. "Jane, that was incredible."

I looked up to her through my eyelashes, "Maura… I told your mother I needed to take you home to create our own modern art." I giggled at my own words.

Then she joined in on my fit of chuckling. The pads of her thumbs traced over the scars on the back of my hands as we pivoted back toward the bar top, our bodies trembling with laughter. "Tell me something," she fought through her hysterics and was nearly out of breath while she spoke, "tell me something in Italian."

I narrowed my smiling and curious eyes in her direction, "Do you speak Italian?"

"No… Just French, German, Serbian, Dutch, Spanish, and Portuguese… Though I do know select dialects in various other idioms too such as Polish, Russian, and Greek…"

"All those and not Italian? God, it's like you avoided it specifically."

She raised a threaded eyebrow at me. "Please?"

I battled with myself over what to say. Licking my lips, I took a deep breath and rattled the words in my head. "Ho aspettato tutta la sera di dirti quanto sei bello. E non solo stasera, ogni notte, sei la più bella."

"That was wonderful, what did you say?"

"Oh I can't tell you that."

"What? Why not?"

I scrunched my body into itself with coyness and wanted to immediately change the subject. "You never answered my question."

She cocked her head to the side, indicating that she wasn't done with that conversation but would pocket it for later. "High school."

"Ha, me too."

Before our gazes had a chance to completely lock on one another, a set of voices pulled our attention away with slight irritation.

"Detective Rizzoli…" I recognized the man from the crime scene, it was Korsak, accompanied by his partner, Frost. Their eyes jumped between Miss Isles and me, prompting me to make the next move.

"I'm not a detective any more."

They ignored the comment before continuing, "let us buy you two the next round, maybe pick your brain a little bit? We're a little tied up on the case right now…" The older of the detectives, Korsak, spoke.

Maura and I turned to each other with shrugs. She would be just as much help as I could be, little did they know. I decided to give it a whirl and if Miss Isles was on board and there was a free beer in it, who am I to deny?

Back in the town car cruising back to the estate was an increasingly quiet ride. I was going over the case in my head, and then arguing with myself because I came here to not be in my head with these things. Then I shifted gears to Maura, and how knowledgeable she is about everything. It was like Google-mouth all over the entire conversation. I know those two Boston detectives were blown away with the information she was able to give. I smiled at the recent memory of their reactions.

With a snicker, I looked to my tired employer, "Miss Isles," She panned her sleepy eyes in my direction. "You were awesome in there."

She smiled stiffly at me before bringing her attention back to the window until this less than mediocre driver pulled up to the horseshoe driveway. I zipped from my spot quickly and went to her door to open it and offer my arm. She took it with a firm grip and leaned on me a little more than normal.

When we heard the pavement quiet down after the town car peeled away, I took the moment to stop our movements and brought her around to face me. "Maura, you okay?"

"The conversation back there just made me miss being a medical examiner entirely too much. I think I may be overanalyzing everything right now, but that's it, Jane. I assure you. I'm sorry if I seem so disconnected."

"You're amazing, Maura. You really are. And I know that you will figure out whatever needs figuring."

She let a smile reach her heavy eyes, "I just may not figure out what you said to me in Italian."

The chuckle that bubbled up from my chest brought our stances just a little closer. "Maybe I'll tell you one day."

The night drank the rest of our conversation while we stood staring at one another in silence for long moments. I don't know how we got so close so quickly. I don't know how it came to be that I am standing here in front of this estate with this woman who is not just my employer, but my only friend. I don't feel used by her when I should; I don't feel taken for granted by her like I have by everyone else. She is unlike anyone I have ever met. I wish she didn't have this mental battle clashing in her head. I wanted so badly to have all the right words to say and the right actions to make it better. These thoughts scared the shit out of me to say least.

Instead of trying to use any words, I pulled her in for a hug. Just a good old fashioned hug. I felt her relax into the hold with a sigh of relief before drawing back after a hundred seconds. At this instance, we both knew the lines between us had been blurred but a comfort came with the notion that we would tackle in the morning and the coming days.

"Oh!" I needed to change the subject for the both of our sakes, "I forgot to ask… Would it be all right if my mother came to visit sometime soon? She sounds like she needs to get away and I kinda miss her…"

"Certainly," the professional voice was creeping up on me.

"I would like for you to hang out with us… If you have the time… I know she would really enjoy your company just as much as I do…"

Delight brought color back to her features, "Yes, let me rearrange some things and maybe in the next couple of days we could fly her out here?"

A quick turnaround like this had my head spinning, "Yeah, erm…. Sure. I will call her tomorrow morning, she'll be so excited."

A beat of quiet became a soft veil around us before Miss Isles began in a near whisper, "Well, um… I better go in. I am absolutely exhausted." She beamed at me before continuing, "Thank you so much for this evening, Jane. It was so much fun, and my goodness, you just make me laugh. Thank you… For everything."

"Maura, I assure it was my pleasure, I had a great time this evening."

She brought me in for a quick hug, a sudden and fast squeeze, before she began her flight back to the main doors.

"By the way…" I took a few steps toward her retreating form… "I have been waiting all evening to tell you just how gorgeous you are. And not just tonight, every night, you are the most beautiful." Her breath hitched in her chest and her mouth opened ever so slightly as if she were going to begin speaking. "That's what I said to you in Italian in the bar earlier…" I shot a brief, yet bold, grin in her direction. "Good night, Maura."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Day five. I didn't think I would make it past day three, but tomorrow my mother will be leaving Boston and I would never tell her that I just wasn't ready for her to go yet. We have had so much fun, and have endured some rather serious talks - actually, she has roped me into rather somber conversations that I did not want to have. But she is very talented at getting me to speak against my will.

The first day she was here and she saw the estate, she was floored. She wanted so badly to see the inside of that house, to which I explained to her that I had not even been inside the mansion. Though, she loved my little Cape Cod style house as I knew she would. One of her first questions was when she could take a dip in the bath tub.

Miss Isles had given us a day and half of space to settle in and explore. Though, the only place we explored was the grocery store because my mother was absolutely appalled at the food choices I had in my fridge. I had explained to her that I did most of my eating while I was in between driving my employer to the places she needed to go. She wanted to hear nothing of it and we fully stocked my fridge and pantry. She demanded that the last day or so that she was going to be here we would cook meals for me to freeze and store for a while so I could have a home cooked supper whenever I needed it. I couldn't say no to that. I could never say no to my mother's cooking.

On the third day of her arrival, after we made breakfast and went on a morning walk, Miss Isles asked if we would like to join her for lunch and drinks on the patio. To which we did much to my mother's excitement. She had never met a famous person. And while Miss Isles wasn't necessarily famous, she was very well known on the East Coast and big in the fashion industry. To my mother, I knew it would mean a lot to not only meet her, but to help put some pieces together she had been missing over the months of my move out here.

They got along way better than I could have imagined. Most of the conversation was back and forth between the two of them, I was totally the third wheel - which was mostly fine with me. They had discussed everything from patterns on throw pillows to their favorite food preparations. The lunch went well into the later afternoon and Miss Isles had insisted we all prepare for an evening at one of her favorite restaurants.

My mother loved every second of it. And I am pretty sure Maura loved every moment of my mother. They both lacked subtly in different ways and had an undeviating approach to any conversation but still left enough margin to read between the lines. Though, even feeling like the odd man out, their banter was highly entertaining for me. Maura also had a way of making us feel comfortable in this moderately high-class setting – white tablecloths, silence service, tiny portions of beautiful and perfectly balanced dishes. She never held anything like money over our heads and had just taken care of everything so flawlessly with her hosting expertise.

On the fourth day, Miss Isles had some work to complete but wanted to lay low for the day - not without promising to come over so we could once again enjoy our wine and rocking chairs, this time with my mother. She and I spent the day driving around the different areas of downtown Boston. I had even asked Miss Isles for a few recommendations for some shops that she thought my mom would enjoy. We made pit stops every couple hours to get my coffee dose and so I could introduce my mom to a few of the cafes I have come to enjoy. I felt lucky to be able to connect, or re-connect, with my mother in this way – to see my new life through my eyes, to live the way I have been living. I feel almost as if a small part of her was highly envious of the lifestyle I was pursuing. But her pride in me outshone any other green energy she was emitting.

Day five, before Maura came over to help with a dinner we had all planned on doing the night before, my mom and I had another session of one of our serious talks. She wanted to make sure I was coming along okay out here on my own and it just wasn't for show. I assured her in various ways that while it was difficult and lonely at times, I was still finding my way and gaining confidence in my new skin. She mentioned how much I had changed since she last saw me – that a certain calmness had come over my demeanor since everything with Hoyt. She asked if I still had nightmares, and it had surprised me to answer "no." It had been a couple weeks since I had had one. Delight colored her features at this notion.

On this fifth day, she finally asks me if I had met anyone since I have been out here. I was shocked it wasn't one of the first questions she asked me upon landing at Logan Airport. When I had told her that work kept me busy, she did one of those slow motion nods and didn't say a word as if she knew things I didn't know yet.

A polite tap sounded at the door and my mother answered it like she has been the one living here for over half a year.

"Miss Isles, come on in," she closed the door behind her and they hugged like old friends. "You excited to learn the old family gnocchi and vodka sauce recipe?"

"Yes Angela I am, tell me what I can do first."

"Hi Maura," I deadpanned.

"Oh gosh, my manners, Jane, hello, how are you?"

I perked up immediately, "Hungry. But Ma said I have to learn the recipe too even though she's making a giant trough of it for me to save for next four months."

"Well, lucky for you I have missed cooking greatly and am very eager to brush up and refine my skills. If there is a dish you would ever like to try Jane, let me know… I would love the opportunity to prepare it for you."

I felt my mom's eyes go wide at this statement and before I could let it marinate too much or let her get too wrapped up into the words, I knew I had to re-direct, "Well, we will see how long it takes me to get through the sixty pounds of pasta my Ma is about to make."

"No baby, you two are going to make it, I'm just gonna tell you how." Her eyes had a dangerous sparkle in them and I warned her with a sneer that she brushed it off easily.

She loved bossing us around and giving ridiculously precise instructions, to which I thought she was making up half of them as she went along. Such as it being mandatory that we rolled out the potato and flour dough with both sets of our hands working in unison so the strands stayed even, or how we needed one person the stir the sauce while the other added spices to it. Also, who knew it took two people to boil water?

Just when we had thought we were done being under her thumb for the hour, an obligatory taste test had to commence. "Janie, let Maura taste it first, her palette is more refined."

I silently scoffed at this while I twirled the wooden spoon through the sauce. I lifted it while cupping a hand underneath to prevent any dripping. I did everything in my power to look away from Miss Isles while she tasted a small portion and reeled back with a delightful look.

"Well done! It's delicious, Jane you have to try it."

I licked my lips and closed my eyes to savor the vodka sauce we made from the same spot on the spoon her mouth was only moments ago. I let my eyes open widely to allow both of them know it was a success.

The first part of the meal went by rather wordlessly apart from the compliments on a triumphant Rizzoli gnocchi dish. My mom went on to explain how her mother learned the recipe from her grandmother back in Italy the last time she visited and passed it down to her.

"Oh, quanto mi manca così tanto," she dabbed a napkin to her eye.

"I know Ma, I miss her too."

A beat of silence thumped between the three of us.

The sharp clank of my fork to the porcelain plate broke the silence.

"Anyway girls, let's move on to a happier topic…" We both smiled in response to my mother, waiting to see what she would come up with in her unpredictable ways. "Maura, are you seeing anyone? I bet you just have to pull men off of you left and right."

The very proper honey blonde let an uncharacteristic chortle elicit from her throat in response to this before gathering herself to compose a sentence. "No, I, um… I am certainly not pulling men off of me left and right." Her smile couldn't hide.

"Or pulling women off, whatever the case… You're both beautiful women and its crazy that you're both still single." After neither of had a chance, nor anything to say to this right away, my mother thought it best to continue. "I remember when my Janie came out to me…"

"Oh Jesus, Ma," I mumbled.

"She was sixteen and just knew, just absolutely knew, that she was in love the girl across the street from us. Neither her father or I cared, we just wanted to her to be happy and knew she could handle her own if someone gave her a problem."

"Okay, Ma, that's enough…" I pleaded.

"Oh Janie you were so sweet," she ignored me. "Remember you used to make her those origami flowers and leave them outside her bedroom window?"

I was more than embarrassed right now. I could feel my cheeks going hot and steam nearly coming out of my ears. "C'mon Ma…" I said under my breath, too mortified to muster any other words.

"Well that sounds incredibly romantic of you Jane, teenager or not." Then the gracious millionaire addressed my boisterous mother, "and Angela, that is wonderful that you and your husband were so accepting of her in such a critical time of her life."

The discomfiture was slowly seeping out of the room as we cleared our plates and picked out a bottle of wine to enjoy outside. I offered _my_ rocking chair to my mother while Miss Isles slid into _hers._ We silently geared the conversation away from anything related to what we were talking about at dinner. Instead, my mother showered Maura with questions about her mother, her father, if she had any siblings, and where she grew up. It was easy to see that bringing up her father was still a very sensitive subject, my mother had even grasped her hand with a soft squeeze letting her know that there was no way Maura's dad could not be proud of the woman she had become.

Shortly after the touching moment they shared, my mom said she needed to retire for the evening. Something about old bones needing extra rest and nerves before a flight. I reminded her it was only a two and a half hour flight back to Chicago and she still had twelve hours until it was time to depart. She waved me off and offered my rocking chair back to me.

Once the back door closed behind her, Maura turned to me quickly, "Your mother is absolutely remarkable."

I smiled shyly, "Yeah…" I sighed. "She is pretty great. It's been nice having her here these past couple days."

"You two are a lot alike, you know."

"Please, don't remind me."

We both laughed lightly at this and took a peaceful moment to reflect, listening to the crickets chirping into the night. After a few beats of wordless communication, I nervously twisted my hands together.

Maura took a heavy sip from her glass and placed it on the table grabbing my attention. "May I?" She held her hands out to me and motioned for me to do the same. When I tried to pull away, she prompted me with slight nod of her head. I offered them up without a second thought. She positioned my palms facing up and then proceeded to rub around the hardened scar tissue without a word.

It felt amazing. I just watched her hands work out the tension and soften the skin around the awful memories.

"I was investigating a serial killer…" My voice was low, slow, raspy, and calculated. "His M.O. was seeking out well off couples… he would rape the wife... make the husband watch… then kill him. He would keep the wives for up to a week and torture them. Physically and mentally. Until finally killing them too." I took a deep breath, the gravel still in my throat as I spoke. "He played me. I followed a hunch… a piece of evidence found on the last body that hadn't been on any of the other ones… and I followed that evidence to a warehouse in the industrial district in Chicago. I was by myself. I should have never been by myself…" I knew she could somehow feel my pulse quickening as I went on with my confession, her hands still working diligently on my scars. "I went inside the warehouse and was nailed in the back of the head with a two by four…. When I woke up he was on top of me… getting ready to… to um… yeah…. He said before he did, he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to go anywhere because he wanted to enjoy every minute of me." I felt the prickle of hot tears stinging my eyes and bit them back as much as I could. "I felt paralyzed while he jammed scalpels through each of my hands, pinning me to the rickety floor I was laying on."

The massage she was giving me had stopped, but her hands remained clasped around mine. "Jane…"

"Please… Just… Don't…" I begged.

She gave my hands a pull and it brought both of us to our feet. "I am not very good at consoling people… And I don't always have the right things to say. But I really, really want to comfort you, Jane." She mutely brought our bodies together in a crushing embrace and locked her arms around me tightly. It had taken my body a few instances to realize what was happening until I let myself melt into the hold.

After minutes of this strong grip we had on one another, we carefully started to pull away from each other. I didn't want to part on such a serious moment, and thought it would be in both of our best interests to lighten the mood. "God Maur', we have to stop making each other cry all the time."

We both exhaled a breath of laughter before locking eyes. We didn't need to say anything after that, the vibes we were emitting were being felt and reflected without the use of verbal communication. Simultaneously, we both felt a shift happen in the air between us.

*****Oh, quanto mi manca così tanto….. Oh how I miss her so much.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you for reading and for the wonderful reviews, I will keep the chapters coming! l

Chapter Nine

We were on our way back from Logan Airport after dropping my mother off for her short flight back to the Midwest. Miss Isles was nuzzled in the back seat of the Bentley Bentayga keeping to herself while watching the traffic zip by and I was zoning in and out while steering us back to the estate. The goodbye was short and sweet, with promises of seeing each other at least once every few months, even though it would never be enough.

The piercing ringtone shattered all tension in the confines of this vehicle. It would be nearly impossible to not listen to the one side of the conversation taking place behind me. She had answered her cell phone immediately and nodded her head and moved her eyes across the empty space in front of herself making me believe that whomever she was talking to her had a mouthful to say before they let her get a word in edgewise.

"Yes… yes mother I understand. I will have my driver head in that direction now." A coldness began to creep into this luxury SUV that was not welcomed. "The Mandarin Oriental, please."

I silently patted myself on the back because I knew how to get there from our location without needing to use GPS. We arrived in record time, and I knew this because her impatient mother wasn't out front ticking her foot like the second hand of a clock.

Miss Isles rolled the window down briefly as if to signal her and minutes later she fled from the double doors, seeming annoyed that she had to open it herself while the closest bellhop helped a woman with several pieces of luggage instead of her. I inwardly rolled my eyes as I exited the car to politely open the back door for the anxious woman. She didn't even chance a look in my direction as she slid in the back seat.

"Maura dear, we have no time to waste. We must set the house properly and I do not have the confidence that you can do this on your own. There are only a few hours until all my guests will be arriving. I trust you haven't gotten rid of the dining room furniture?"  
"No mother, I have not gotten rid of any furniture."

"Good. Then the set up should go quickly. Luckily I have my catering team on standby and they are already preparing tonight's meal."

I could hear the clench of Miss Isles' teeth while she bit back the words she wanted to say. We drove just about the rest of the way in a forced peace until I turned my head to the side to watch for oncoming traffic on one of the last three turns I was going to have to make. The profile of my face must have been observed very closely when I made this slight motion.

"Maura. Is this the same woman you brought as a date to my installation? She doubles as your driver? Have I not warned you before about mixing business with pleasure? We instilled these rules in you when you were younger for a reason, dear. Your father and I both cautioned you to not get too close to the help here, whether you hired them not…"

Constance Isles had droned on with this until I pulled up to the front of the estate. Maura hadn't even made a sideways glance in my direction nor defended me in any way. I felt a stab of pain in my chest as she escaped from the vehicle with an apprehensive silence. Though I did attempt to rationalize with myself that she and her spiteful mother had quite a bit of last minute planning to do for some dinner party she was organizing and it may have caused a level of irritation that I couldn't quite understand. I offered a sympathetic look to Miss Isles as she spun her perfectly wavy honey and golden locks around to give me one last view. Her face had been stern and fixed into a grimace. I was hoping vehemently it was not aimed at me.

I couldn't hear or see anything, but I knew the buzz of a large gathering taking place a few hundred yards behind me was aiding in the sinking feeling I couldn't fathom. The look she gave me, the silence she treated me with… I was torturing myself with this, sitting here alone in my house. I tried to read. I tried to watch some television. I tried everything to rid the growing feeling. I wanted to step out and drive and catch a breath of fresh air, but was afraid I may not be readily available if I was needed to cart someone around right away. A sense of feeling trapped wound me tightly. To loosen the hold I did fifty push ups and paced around the house straightening up things that had already been tampered with minutes before. I folded and re-folded throw blankets on the back of the couch and the foot of my bed. I was fuming too badly to want to take a bath for fear my body would scald the water even more.

Getting my mind away from the torment I was putting it through, I thought it best to give my mom a call for a distraction, of sorts.

"Janie! What a surprise!" Her delight doused my heated skin with cold water.

"Hey Ma," and with those two simple words she knew everything.

"What's wrong honey?"

"Nothing."

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli… Tell me what is wrong this instance."

"After we dropped you off at the airport Maura's mother called and her and her whole mood shifted and now there is this massive dinner party happening at the estate and she was so rude to me, Ma. So incredibly rude to me."  
"Who, Maura?" She asked, unbelieving.

"No, her mother, Constance. Though, Maura did nothing to defend me and I don't know… I think I'm just distressing myself at this point."

"Janie you can't read too much into it. She's a good woman and has a high opinion of you and values you. And I'm your mother… That's not something I would just readily admit to."

I chuckled at her honesty.

"Besides," she continued. "I heard you two last night on the porch… You telling her about Hoyt... What she said in response…." I let her words seep in. "You two are unique. I would maybe just let this blow over, sweetheart. Give it just a little bit of time."

I felt better already. "Thanks, Ma," I smiled into the mouthpiece of the cell phone so she could hear it.

"You are welcome. You're my daughter, and I love you, and I will always be here to talk some sense into you."

I chuckled again. "I love you too, Ma."

"Okay, now I gotta go honey. Even after my flight back this morning, your father is waiting for me make dinner. His patience is getting thinner and thinner lately."

"Tell him I say hi and I love him too."

"Will do baby, enjoy the rest of your night."

We hung up and my head was clearer. I decided to sit in the rocking chair and read, all in an effort to keep my mind occupied.

"Miss Rizzoli, could you please exit here, I would like to stop by the office for a few hours."

I veered to the Panorama to the ramp on the right and smoothly drove to her office building that she had not been to in weeks after admitting that she despised being there.

"Thank you, I will be done in four hours. Please be out front with the BMW 7 series. I am going to arrange dinner plans and will let you know the destination then."

I nodded my head stoically. This is how it had been for the past week. The personality I once saw peek out, gone without notice, replaced by an icy demeanor always covered in some fancy giant sunglasses. Anytime I would let her attitude grind my gears, I repeated the words my mother told me, 'give it time.' It had severed as my mantra for the past several dozen car rides we have shared this week. She has kept herself busier than from when I first started driving her. My old detective senses were telling me she was hiding from something. But I did well enough to shush them and push them aside.

Needless to say, there have been no rocking chairs, no shared bottles of wine, and no shy laughter - just short and sharp instructions that pierce through me like daggers multiple times a day. I thought my best reaction to this sudden change was no reaction at all. I just let it all happen. I wasn't trying to outsmart her; I was just simply trying to get by until her mood shifted back. Though hope was fading, quickly, with each car ride and each 'Miss Rizzoli' I endured.

For the two hours I was going to have to wait, one hour to head back to the garage and one hour to bring it back to the city, I chose a cool sandwich spot called Cutty's that I have yet to try. The line was out the door, but I had some time to waste, so I planted myself at the end and waited for the chain to move. After five minutes and no one shuffled forward even an inch, I leaned against the building and hoped whatever I ended getting in the end would all be worth it.

Another ten or so minutes passed and the line had graced forward about a foot. By this point, I was hoping I'd have time to eat the damn sandwich by the time they got to me at the very end of the line. Just as I was about to peek my tall and lean frame over the heads of those standing ahead of me, someone slid in a spot behind me and cleared their throat loud enough for me to hear it. I turned quickly to address whoever it was then swiftly folded my arms across my chest.

"You guys followin' me?"

"No no, the pork rabe is the best sandwich in town. You ever had it?" Detective Korsak sounded honest, but I still wanted to stand my ground.

"No, first time here." I was stiff and unwavering.

"We only venture down here once a week during a rough case. Old man here can't think without that damn sandwich." Detective Frost chimed in next to him.

"So you wait an hour in line just so you can do some real thinking?"

They looked at each other and smiled before Detective Korsak spoke up. "Never have, never will. Follow us."

The three of us journeyed to the front of the patient crowd and the older office nodded in the direction of the man behind the counter. He formed the number three with his hand and the Cutty's employee acknowledged him. Two minutes later, a bag was passed over the counter.

"Here you are detectives," the worker winked in my direction. "New partner, huh Korsak?"

And like just like that we were walking to the back patio to indulge in these.

"That was pretty impressive," I said as soon as we were all seated.

"You think that's impressive, wait 'til you take a bite of that." The younger officer was animated as he unwrapped the wax paper and took a big chomp of the bread.

I followed suit and did the same. Damn. That _was_ good. I could see what the wait was for. We each ate through half of our late lunch in a hungry silence until Korsak wiped his beard and mustache down with a handful of napkins.

"Frost, you think the director of the rehab home has motive?"

"Nah, she was clean with an air tight alibi. Phone records didn't raise any flags. I'm thinking we take another look at the clinic, ask around, see if her picture flares any moods."

"Could try that. Such a shame. She was a talented guitarist. Good voice too."

"Yeah, wasted her time at open mics though."

"Same sets, same places, for months…"

I finished my sandwich. I knew what they were doing. They were trying to rope me in to this conversation. I was falling for it too. A big part of me had missed all of this breakdown on case, even though it was more frustrating than anyone could imagine.

"Who replaced her?" I spoke up and they both raised their eyebrows at me. "At the open mics? You said same sets and same places…. That's the only constant you have from what I'm hearing…"

Detective Korsak smiled knowingly from the side of his mouth and Frost mimicked the gesture. They changed the subject to the Red Sox and the Cubs, keeping the rest of the conversation as neutral as possible before they said they had to get back to the station. I thanked them once again for lunch and told them I'd probably run into them again soon. They snickered at the comment before heading out.

While driving Miss Isles to her dinner reservation at some upscale restaurant, my phone had rang several times. The fist time startling us both because the ringer was all the way up and I silenced the call before seeing who it was. The second time, it jarred the air in the car again as I offered an apology. The third time, Miss Isles spoke angrily at me.

"Miss Rizzoli, you are on my time, I suggest you turn your phone off and do the only thing you are here for. Drive."

I bit my tongue and made the slightest of nods before turning my phone off, never taking my eyes from the road in front of me.

"I will be done in ninety minutes. Let's hope you no longer have any distractions deterring you from doing your job properly."

She exited the car hastily then composed herself in a quick breath and closed the door. When she rounded the corner, I saw her kiss the cheek of some woman and link arms with a feigned happiness on display for those around.

Still reeling my neck back into position with the whiplash I just endured from the irritability of my employer, I turned the ignition off where I was parked on the side of the restaurant and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I remained like this until I heard the back door open precisely and hour and a half later and the icy voice of the socialite commanded that I take her back to the estate for the evening.

The bitter part of me wanted to ask if someone spit in her food, but I remained silent and robotic as I pulled into the horseshoe drive way. "That will be it for the night Miss Rizzoli. I hope whoever was the cause of distraction from your job is aware they put your employment on the line with their incessant behavior being just as abysmal yours has been."

She slammed the door and clicked her five inch heels to the entrance while my head spun around once more. I had forgotten to put my phone back on. I zipped back in the garage and ushered myself into the house tossing my keys on the counter while starting up my cell phone.

Fifteen missed calls and thirty-four text messages.

I called back the number immediately.

"Ma?"

"Janie! Your father…"

"Ma what's wrong?" The room had begun to spin.

"Your father was rushed to the hospital…" She hiccupped a sob, "we think he had a heart attack." Another sob escaped her. "I need you now Janie. Please... They don't know… Just no one knows... They just don't know…"

I don't even remember hanging up the phone while I rushed to the back door of the estate and began knocking with an anxious force.

"Miss Isles, I…" I began frantically.

She pushed the door open with a clenched jaw. "The nerve you have banging on the door of my home like that. I will not stand for these manners Miss Rizzoli. Especially when I have given you more than you will ever be able to give to yourself. You came here with nothing, now I expect you to leave the same way." She slammed the door in my face.

I didn't have time to remain stunned as I ran to the garage to grab my own car and peel out of the driveway faster than I have ever reversed before. I don't remember the drive to the airport at all, or if I will ever see my car again because I left it parked in a loading zone as I ran inside and bought a ticket for very next flight into Chicago.


	10. Chapter 10

Hope I can make up for that cliffhanger on the last chapter. Yes, still more to come after this. I value all of your feedback so much, thank you for taking the time to leave comments and reviews you lovely readers!

Chapter Ten

The grooves in my seat from hours of sitting and the twenty feet of worn tile in front of me from hours of pacing when I couldn't sit any more had become my focus for the minute. I landed late yesterday evening on the first available flight to O'Hare in Chicago and have been at the hospital until now. Doctors are just starting their morning rounds as Frankie, my little brother, and I have been taking turns getting coffee from the vending machine for each other.

He picked me up within minutes of my plane landing as soon as I could get to a pay phone and we came straight here. He spent the first part of the evening here with our mother, who is restlessly asleep on the loveseat next to me, before he brought the squad car and flashing lights to airport pick up zone. No one really knows all that much right now apart from the fact that my father went into surgery last night just as I was boarding my plane in Boston, and there were complications.

It had taken several more hours than what they initially planned and the doctors were not quick to give us any information. So we have been waiting and barely speaking, except nervous looks in every direction. Anytime someone in scrubs passes by, we stand to attention hoping they have news for us.

Frankie, my twenty-eight year old younger brother, decided to try to occupy our minds so we didn't go too insane. He kept his voice low so to not wake our mother. "How is Boston treating you?"

"It's not Chicago… But, I liked it."

"Liked it? Why the past tense, sis?"

"I don't think I can go back there."

He observed me too closely and I hardened my eyes at him. He and I were always close, much closer and much more alike than our youngest brother Tommy, who is spending his time in jail. "What are ya runnin' from Janie?"

He hit a nerve. The strong Italian in me that had been kept calm and under wraps for months was pumping back through my veins from the pocket I held it in next to my heart. "I am NOT running from a damn thing." I yelled at him in a squeaked whispering tone. He puffed out a disbelieving noise from his mouth, unaffected my by outburst. "Listen, Frankie, I'm not running from anything… My employer… Well, we have been on pretty bad terms for the past week. Ever since mom left really…"

"She raved about that trip every single day. She loved it out there, Janie. She said you had done yourself good." I smiled fondly at his words recalling the recent memories with my mother. "She said…" He waved his hand in the air and stood up abruptly. "Nevermind. Coffee? My turn right?"

I stood with him, "Hold on there… She said what? Don't give me any of that nevermind bullshit."

He dropped his shoulders in defeat. "She said you two were… That you two were hittin' it off…" I raised my eyebrows at him. "She told me she heard you telling her about Hoyt. And that you guys got along _really_ well."

"We did… I don't… Just don't know what happened. It was all of a sudden. She just became awful to me, for no reason. I mean, I have been pretty rational lately and I couldn't even come up with a reason why…"

Frankie straightened his head in thought. "You ever ask her?"

"I mean I really didn't get a chance when she was busy berating me whenever I drove her around. And now I can't even call and bitch her out because I left my phone at the house back in Boston and I don't even know her number." I took a deep breath. "I mean, it sucks… we were getting close. I really liked her, Frankie. We had fun. We had amazing conversations… I was beginning to feel like I could trust her." I let out the held breath with force. "And that's all been shattered now."

"Oh man, Janie…"

I casted my eyes down to floor where they remained for a long moment, "I know Frankie."

My mother began to stir awake on the small and uncomfortable couch, "Kids..."

"Ma!" We were both at her side in a flash.

Stress and worry clotted her voice into a gruff noise, "Someone called Tommy right? One of you two let your little brother know what's happening?"

"Yeah Ma, I know a guard at the prison and was able to talk to Tommy. I told him to call me back later this morning too."

"Such a good boy, Frankie," she patted his cheek. "Would you mind bringing me a coffee?"

"Yeah, I was on my way to the vending machine now. Be right back."

As he stood, my mother moved to sitting position and I sat next to her so we could hold each other. She felt small and weak in my arms and it was crushing me to be strong for her.

"I heard you and Frankie talking…"

"No Ma, just think about Pop right now…"

"I will think about whatever I damn well please. Now tell me what happened with Miss Isles?"

I pulled myself to the furthest corner of the couch as if I thought I was somehow hiding from her. "She was so nasty to me, Ma. This past week. Ever since we dropped you off. It was like a switch went on… or off. I don't know."

"What happened between dropping me off at the airport and driving in the car?"

I thought about this and remembered her mother called. We had picked her up and the malicious attitude began with her. It had all been downhill from that point. The moment she recognized my face as the woman who attended her stupid art gallery opening with her daughter. Maura, Miss Isles, hadn't been the same since then. Now I found myself wondering what happened at the dinner party that night. But if something had happened there, it would make no sense for her to take out all of her anger on me. I hadn't done wrong by her… That I knew of.

As I let myself roll back the memory tape of my brain, Frankie was walking back across the waiting room floor with drips of coffee in his wake from the three steaming cups he was holding. He placed them down on the closest table and shook off his heated hands. While he wiped the residual burns away on his pants, a doctor in teal scrubs peeked into the room and took sight of the three us.

"Are you the Rizzoli's?" He spoke with a kind and calm voice.

My mother sprang to her feet, "Yes doctor, we are. Is this about my husband, Frank?"

The tall, middle aged doctor nodded with closed eyes. "As you know… yesterday we had a quite a bit of complications with the coronary artery bypass graft and our best surgeons and cardio specialists worked on him for many hours into the very early morning. There were some hiccups along the way…" He let his voice slow down and you could practically hear all of our stomachs dropping with sadness. This couldn't be it. It couldn't all change this quickly. He gave us all time to process these words.

The doctor continued in his monotone voice, "Mrs. Rizzoli, your husband is certainly a fighter. He has some healing to do over next few months and some changes he will have to make that we will all go over. He has also been asking for you."

The three of us looked at each other with gasps in place of words and my mother ran down the hallway without a glance behind her. Frankie and I hugged each other and shook hands with this doctor who should have began his whole approach with the good news first. He warned us just one at a time for visiting for the next few days while he is under observation and still healing.

My brother suggested he drive me back to our parent's house for a shower and change of clothes for us both. He mentioned I still had bunch of boxes in there with some clothes that I didn't bring on the move with me. I don't remember saying yes but we were already in squad car riding back through this neighborhood that had not changed one bit. I smiled internally when he turned past the park where I had my first kiss and looked with wonder at the trees lining our street once he came rolling up to the curb of our home.

As I stepped out of the police cruiser I was preparing myself for the smell of the inside of the house. It feels like it has been a decade since I have been back inside, but I always remember loving that smell. It was home, it was warm, it was like a hug that tethered you to your memories. Frankie let me walk slowly in observation of everything as we climbed the five stone steps to the small patio and front door.

I peeked to my left to pay homage to my parent's rocking chairs that have been there since forever. My little brother took his keys out and I did a double take to the chair and noticed something. He noticed my slow approach to the end of the cement patio and called after me. Picking up the oddity laying across one of the rockers, I turned to him quickly and raised my eyebrows, unable to form a sentence.

"Oh weird… I remember when Katie, that neighbor girl you crushed on big time, used to leave you those by your window." He said very matter-of-factly.

"Yeah…" I inspected the object, twisting it around in the morning sunlight. He thought nothing of it as he continued opening the door and entered into the house. I stood outside for a minute longer looking up and down the street to see if anything else out of the ordinary stuck out to me.

I looked back down at the perfectly constructed origami rose in my hand and held it to my chest as walked through threshold.


	11. Chapter 11

The next chapter after this is already in the works, sit tight, enjoy, and review, Thank you to all for your inspiration!

Chapter Eleven

"So where'd it come from?" Frankie was sitting at the kitchen table of our parent's house spooning bites of cereal into his mouth while staring at the red folded paper flower on the counter.

I had just emerged fresh from the shower, and in the only change of clothes I had here that didn't say Chicago Police Department on them. Clothes, photos, and boxes of junk were collecting dust in my parent's basement – all items that I didn't want to get rid of just yet. I was also averse to bringing them to my new home in Massachusetts for fear of the clean break not being clean enough with the weighted memories. " _I_ used to make them for Katie…" I corrected his earlier statement that I let slide by in midst of mystified self where he thought she was the one that used to make them for me.

"Oh right. That was her name…" he wiped droplets of milk from his chin. "It was so long ago Janie, I forgot who made them for who." My younger brother stood up with his empty bowl to bring to the sink. "So who left it there then? Kinda weird, huh?"

I gave him a heavy shrug and wasn't able to come up with an answer as I stood hypnotized by the crimson paper staring back at me and thinking about the last time I made them for my neighbor-girl crush. It was nearly a decade and a half ago, much too long a time for the crispness of the edges of this origami rose. I had fallen madly head over heels for her and it could not have been more unreciprocated. I shut my eyes hard to angrily rid myself of those recollections. I was beyond flabbergasted however, trying to make sense of this. Maybe my mom was teaching herself how to make them after bringing up the humiliating memory when she visited me in Massachusetts. Or maybe it _was_ one I made a billion years ago and she was just hanging onto it for some reason.

I thought about the what, the why, the how, all the way back to the hospital. My brother tried to keep the air in the squad car busy with his awful choice in 80's metal music as we pulled into the parking garage. He mentioned something about having to work later this afternoon to which I hardly was able to pay attention while we hurried through the automatic doors and into the elevator bringing us to the floor our father was on. He scurried into the sterile room before I had a chance to and my mother came out to wait with me in the same room we occupied all morning until I could have my moment to spend with Dad before he needed to rest again in this late afternoon.

She avoided the loveseat she had fallen asleep on earlier and chose a chair on the opposite side of the room and I gravitated next to her. We didn't say anything for several minutes until she broke the tension with tears springing from her eyes.

"Janie… He's going to be okay..." We grabbed each other's hands and held tightly.

I wanted to be strong for her and choked back the moisture trying to escape me. "Of course he is, Ma…. You heard the doc earlier… He's a fighter. And no matter how much you two bicker and fight, I know he wouldn't want to miss a day with you."

She reached for a tissue on the end table next to her and dabbed the wet spots on her face though her voice still had the croaked sound of tears in it. "That's exactly what he told me."

"See Ma, he will come out of this stronger than before with a new appreciation of you, of life…" I did my best to offer the reassurance of what I thought she would need.

We spent the next moments squeezing each others hands in a relieving way and listening to the multiple doctors being paged across the speakers above our heads. I could tell by the way the sadness was beginning to dry across her face that she was on the starting line of her own healing from the traumatic experience. She was a helicopter mother to my brothers and I while growing up, I could only begin to imagine how she was going to be with my poor father once he is able to come home. I chuckled inwardly at the idea of it and my mother noticed my smallest change of demeanor.

"What is it Janie?"

"Nothing Ma, I was just thinking about how you're going to be all over Pop once he comes home just like you were to me, Tommy, and Frankie any time we were hurt…"

She took the opportunity to chortle at the idea too, knowing just how true it was. Once our reprieving snickering slowed to a silence, she pivoted her body toward me. "Jane?"

"Yeah, Ma?"

"When are you going back to Boston?"

I bit my lip with defeat exhausting from my chest, "I don't think I'm going back…"

"What do you mean you don't think you're going back? You started to tell me what happened then the doctors came by… now what's going, Jane?"

No matter what kind of half-truth I could come up with on fly, she would see right through me, right through any type of line I could throw her. "Miss Isles…. Well, she has been…" I looked to the fluorescent above me in search of the right words. "She has been awful to me, Ma. I don't know what I did or didn't do… Or what happened… But the rudest way you could think of acting toward someone, well she did it ten fold. I didn't think I would ever warrant any kind of behavior that would make anyone, and I mean anyone, act like that toward me. And when you tried to get a hold of me when Dad was being rushed to the hospital, she kept hastily reminding me that I was on _her time_ and just doing her best to make me feel like I was beneath her and that no matter who was calling me, she was more important. It was ever since her mom called her on the way home from dropping you off at the airport. I just don't know what happened… And before you ask, no, I really didn't have an opportunity to find out or dig deeper. She turned cold so quickly, there really wasn't a chance…"

"Have you called her since you've been here?"

"Well… No. I don't remember her number off the top of my head and I left my cell phone at the guest house…"

"Oh Janie…" Her sympathetic voice coiled around me.

"I know, Ma. I'm not… I just don't…" Uncertainty caused a tremor across my scarred hands.

"Well, visit with your father, Frankie will probably only have a couple more minutes. The doctors said he will be more with it tomorrow after plenty of rest. Then we will figure something out."

I nodded my head and peeled myself from the chair, making my way down the white and glowing hallway to my dad's hospital room. At my presence Frankie slid out of his spot next to the gurney and whispered a heads up letting me know he was already in and out sleep. I warily sat in the plastic seat and took a hold of his hand, careful not to touch any of the lines and IVs coming out of it.

His skin looked pale and papery. The sight of him tightened around my heart and squeezed tears from the corner of my eyes. He was fading quickly to sleep after mostly acknowledging my presence. I leaned in and kissed his forehead softly as the steady beats and beeps in the background confirmed that he had fallen asleep.

I took this time to open up to him about everything I could. I told him he gave us quite a scare and that he couldn't do that anymore and all of us would make sure of it. I told him he is my idol and I don't think I will ever be ready for him to go. I told him how much I shook my leg on the flight back home. I gave him a faint idea of how much I spent on the expedited airfare and how I knew he would go berserk at the amount. I let him know how much I missed everyone but that I was adapting to my life on the East Coast, even though it was so different. I told him that my Hoyt nightmares were stopping and that I would recite the words he told me when our roles were reversed over a year ago and I was the one on this bed. "All you have left to do is heal; everything else will fall into place. Us Rizzolis, we are unstoppable." I warned him that he better remember those words and think them every single day. Not everyone gets a second chance, but we were the lucky ones to be granted this and needed to live it to the fullest.

I spent the next twenty minutes or so reflecting on the confessions that easily fell from me while watching his chest rise and fall. The comfort that came from his calm movements wrapped around and held me for these remaining moments until I reluctantly stood and flipped the light switch, wishing him a goodnight and letting him know we would all be here when he woke.

When I reached the waiting room again my mother and brother looked like they were in deep conversation that I couldn't wait to hear. Though, it seems I was too late as an abrupt change of topic was dancing across this thin air.

"Well, I better head off to work. Ma, Janie, see you in the morning." And like that Frankie was out and on his way for the evening shift at the department.

"How was your father, honey?"

"Asleep now. He hardly looks like himself. But I know I my gut that he will be back to his old ways soon enough," I offered an appeasing smile as I slumped into same chair.

"I know he will baby, I know he will. So listen, I wanted to warn you, your Auntie Val and Uncle Mickey are on their way over. She just wants to check in on me and is bringing me some clothes. I decided when you were in there that I am going to spend the night here tonight with your father… I know you were just back at the house and I should have asked you but my mind is just all over the place."

Auntie Val was my dad's sister, very nice, very kind woman, got along well with my mother, but was always full of showers of questions, was a bit of a bigmouth, and certainly didn't catch onto small hints. Just something she knew I wouldn't have the energy to deal with, hence the heeded warning.

"Anyway Janie, just take a cab back to the house and you bring my car in my morning," she handed me her car keys and house keys, assuming I didn't have my set with me. "I rode with your father in the ambulance here, so I will need the car here regardless, I just thought this would work out the best. There's a fridge full of food so help yourself."

The plan she had worked had suited me just fine, I was just concerned about here staying here and her level of comfort. She seemed set on the idea and there is really no changing her mind once that happens. I nodded and kissed her on the head, asking if there was anything else she needed before I left. She told me to get out of there and get some sleep myself and come back in the morning with her car and breakfast.

I only had to wait about five minutes until a cab pulled up into the taxi bay. The ride back home was quick in the dawning evening and the pink Chicago sky was begging me to admire it. I took in the view with a weighted breath and prepared my mind over the grilling I was readying to do to myself. There was a lot to sort and figure out and I knew as soon as I walked back into that house, and got a healthy plate of leftovers, it was time to give myself some answers. The cabbie arrived at the house right as I was handing his tip over the backseat. He wished me a pleasant night and I hoped for just that.

Shuffling up the concrete stairs while I dug keys out of my pocket, I felt everything from the flight back home, to the jarring experience with my father, to the array of uncomfortable chairs at the hospital, and to the conversations with Frankie and my mother take hearty toll on my body. My feet felt like I was trying to wade through a pool of molasses I as crossed the next few strides.

Before entering the house, I scanned the porch in search of another origami flower, but did not see one. I deflated slightly before turning the key and pushing the door open.  
"Jane?"

The voice was familiar, it caused my skin to prickle and jaw to clench. I turned around cautiously to face the person at the bottom of the steps addressing me. With my face unchanging, this unannounced individual repeated themselves, though it wasn't in question this time.

"Jane…"

I didn't want to hear that sadness in their voice when I had spent all this time being angry. I didn't want to hear their worry between the letters of my own name. She placed a folded paper flower on the stair in front of her like a line she couldn't cross.

"I don't… I don't know what say..."

I stood still and motionless staring at the distressed face of Maura Isles.

"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I was a monster. She turns me into a monster. I know it's no excuse and I know that I cannot take back the words that I have said… I can never take them back…" She said this last part as if it was the first time she had had this thought and I could see her eyes watering. "But I can only offer that I have so many words to say that I will try to make up for them. They can never be unsaid, or erased, or unfelt, but I give you my promise that I will do whatever I can to prevent anything like those words from happening ever again… Every day, if you will let me." She let the tears reach her cheeks as she continued, "Oh God, I can't even believe the way I spoke to you Jane. I was angry but it wasn't at you, I promise it wasn't you. I just took it all out on you. I used you as a punching bag, and you are the last person that I would ever…." She paused briefly to wipe the streams from her eyes, "I am so sorry Jane. And I hope some day you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me…"

I nodded my head, my jaw still visibly clenched, and pivoted back to the front door. "Come inside the house if you want to finish this conversation. We don't need to be doing this on my parent's stoop."

I felt the air shifting around my body, allowing me to know that she was only a few feet behind, trailing my sluggish form through the threshold.


	12. Chapter 12

Still more chapters in the works! Thank you for taking the time to read and review!

Chapter Twelve

When we walked into the house I told her I was going to make us a pot of coffee, just so I could hide in the kitchen and collect myself. While it brewed, I took to peeking in on her anytime I heard a creak across the floor. She spent most of the time fiddling her hands in and out of knots while taking in the photos laced across the walls of my childhood home. A part of me wanted to angrily ask her so many questions, and the other part did not want to get too fired up before hearing all the things she was preparing to say. Plus I needed to give my head a minute to recoil from the sudden appearance of Miss Isles on my parent's doorstep nearly twenty-four hours after I sped backwards out of the driveway of her Dover estate.

I rehearsed several things in my mind before gathering a set of mugs and coffee fix-ins and bringing them to the dining room table. I set them down with more a of clanking nose than I had intended, startling the honey blonde pacing in the adjoined living space in the bungalow I grew up in; I almost looked up with apologetic eyes before deciding to keep them pinned to the table cloth in front of me.

"Thank you," she softly mumbled into the tense air.

I couldn't find any words to say – whether they were the right or wrong thing to say, I still couldn't come up with anything. The silence tightened around both of our throats.

It was so quiet I could hear the parting of her lips preparing to make a speech.

"I um…" she took several distracted sips of coffee, "I, uh, I ran to your house that night and saw your phone was on the counter… I assure you I was not trying to invade your space and I am sorry that I have in _so_ many ways… But I saw all the messages from your mother… I remember you had received so many phone calls in the car that day and I was just awful and so incredibly selfish about the whole ordeal and seeing those shed all too much light on what was occurring and..." She stifled a whimper, "And I couldn't believe I had held you back like that when your father, your family, needed you." She cupped a hand over her mouth while pacing around the dining room table where I was currently standing.

"When my mother threw the dinner party at my home, she took the time to pick a part my life. To tell me how much wrong I had done, where I had done it, how I had done it. It was non-stop with her and I think I just let it grate me down and down and down until I felt nothing at all. Every step was wrong and I just bottled it all up and said nothing. I let her take it away all of me, all that I had become, just so easily, and so quickly. She said and did a lot of awful things to me upon my father's death and I believe anytime she is around I just turn into her as a way to make it so I don't hurt. But I am… and more importantly, I am hurting others that I care about in the process."

She let three long breaths pass between us as she took her last few paces before turning to face me and catching my eyes. The water accumulating began to slowly spill over her lids and with a set of sniffles, she went on to give me some more clarity. "Since I had her number now, I called your mother right after I noticed all the messages. I gave her all of my condolences and sympathy and I told her that you left, presumably, to head back to Chicago. She has kept me updated on your father's progress…"

I tried to hide my gaze away from her hazel eyes but she kept dipping her head in positions to capture them. "Jane, I promise you that I will do my best to not turn into that person again. You deserve so much more than that. All of the conversations we shared, and the emotions we have crossed, and the levels of our person that we have discovered together in such a short period of time… I know I had a very backwards way of showing this to you, but it has all meant more to me than I am able to express..."

A sob hiccupped from her throat, "I taught myself how to make origami roses… Before leaving. That's what took me so long to get to you…" My ears perked at this statement. It had hardly even been a full day since my abrupt departure. "I remembered the story your mother told us about you leaving them on that girl's window… but I didn't know which one was yours… and then I saw the rocking chairs…" She was now full on weeping as she tossed herself into a chair across the table from where I was hovering.

So much was said and admitted that I didn't know where to start. My mind and my heart were battling terribly and mixing signals to my mouth that eliminated the use of my voice for what felt like ages. If I were to be honest with myself, I missed her. I wanted so badly to forgive her but knew it would take at least a little bit of time. The explanation helps, and I have learned that we are only human. We are flawed, but there is beauty in it somewhere. Also, life is short. The old me would have blown off this conversation and not heard the woman out. The old me would have crumpled up that origami flower and tossed it away along with memories we shared. The old me was sour, and lonely. The old me never wondered _what if._

"Thank you…" My voice seemed almost foreign to me at this point. "For explaining… everything…" I opened and closed my mouth at least a dozen times before I was able to figure out the next things I wanted to say. I went back over all the information Maura had shared with me like a flipbook in my brain. As a small smile started to creep across my face at the same time a tiny light began to shine in her eyes.

"For now… I just have one question."

She flew from the chair she had collapsed in and was just about toe to toe with me now, "Yes anything, please…"

"How long did it take you to learn how to fold that rose?"

She laughed with tears streaming down her face. "Five hours, it's a lot more difficult than it looks."

"Five hours? It took me years to figure it out!"

She giggled the shy giggle I didn't realize I had missed so much. It made my heart drop to my stomach as I pulled her into me for a tight embrace. She settled her head against my shoulder quickly with an elated sigh before whispering "I'm so sorry" into my ear and neck repeatedly with a heavy breath.

We shared the rest of the pot of coffee while spending the next couple of hours catching up on easy conversation. She revealed some details about that dinner party that didn't involve her mother but rather some designer and his affair with a model and other scandalous particulars. Keeping a light and airy wit to our communication helped in moving past the truckload of emotion that was still meandering around this room. As I took the last remaining sips from my mug, I peeked at my watch to check the time since the house had darkened considerably.

She noticed the change in me and I felt her defenses arising. Before they could bubble up more than they were, I confessed how exhausted I was. She understood immediately, though an awkwardness still encompassed us.

"The couch is a pull out..." I felt so silly in suddenly offering this. "I know it's late and you have been busy learning origami and chartering private jets…" I added with a smirk. "But you are more than welcome to stay."

I felt her observing the minute details of my face. "Okay… But only if I am not imposing…" I let her know she wasn't at all. "Because I have never slept on a pull out couch, nor have seen one."

My laughter brought me to my feet and she followed suit, bringing our evening coffee to the kitchen. She scanned around this room she had yet to discover with a childlike sense of wonder. "Would you like to come with me to get some sheets and pillows from the upstairs linen closet?"

She nodded eagerly while I led us back through the dining room and a few feet down the hallway to the stairwell. "This house has so much character and history to it. I bet you and your brothers have a lot of really wonderful memories growing up here."

"Oh, countless." As we got to the top of the steep and carpeted staircase, I turned and motioned behind her the length of the steps. "The three of us used to take our sleeping bags and slide down the stairs before our Ma would start yelling at us. It was so much fun."

Maura laughed at the image I illustrated as we turned the corner to the closet. I opened the door and began selecting pillows, bed sheets, and blankets while telling her about how I used to wedge myself in between the door jams in the house and climb up them so I could touch the ceiling. When I closed the linen closet I turned and she was no longer behind me. Pivoting all the way around and looking to the end of the hallway, I saw her standing in front my bedroom door. There was an Illinois license plate on it that read JANE in which she ran her fingers across.

"May I see your room?"

After a timid nod she pushed the door open and flipped the light on. The bed was on the right hand side of the room and the left had my dresser that was full of trophies from all the sports I played growing up. She quickly scanned them before her feet led her to the built in shelving between my dresser and the window where there were frame upon frame of photos from my high school days.

I watched the smallest of expressions change on her face as she took in each and every photo, making me feel as if I was just a bit on display. Though, it hopefully offered a depth to my being that I wasn't able to provide but wanted to her to know, in a way.

"Stevie Nicks fan?"

I grinned with my eyes squinting in question. "How did you know?"

She smiled and pointed at a picture of me and the girls I played softball with when I was senior. I was wearing a black shirt that said Gold Dust Woman in bold yellow letters. I chuckled in remembrance of the reason why I had that shirt. "My best friend made it for me after that neighbor girl Katie broke my heart. I listened to that song on repeat for days at a time."

Maura spent the next couple of minutes going of over the images again before I tore her from her reverie while I went through my dresser. "What are you looking for?"

"Some comfortable clothes for you to sleep in."

She turned back to the photos for another extended moment while I sifted through the drawers, in search of something particular. I handed her a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. "Um, I am going to set up the pull out for you… Did you want to see how it worked?"

Her eyes widened at this as she practically hopped out of the room and trailed behind me back down the stairs and to the living space. The couch was positioned right in front of the TV with just enough room to fit the full-size bed that popped out of it.

I removed the cushions and exposed the folded frame and mattress to the curious socialite. "Now, you just pull it out," I grabbed hold of the handle and the bed came out easily. "It's not the most comfortable… but it's not the worst either." She and I made swift work of dressing the bed before excusing ourselves to the bathrooms, up and downstairs, to do some speedy nightly routines.

I emerged from the upstairs one as she waited with mystifying eyes at the bottom of the stairs. "So this is what you were looking for?" She gestured to the shirt, the same one I was wearing in the picture she spent so much time staring at.

"Gold Dust Woman..." I chuckled. "It suits you."

A sideways grin made it to her lips, "I should hope not."

I was far too exhausted to read into that, but knew it would carry through my slumber. "I just wanted to say that I am glad you are here… And good night."

"You're not going to join me on the pull out?" Her face dropped.

"Oh… I um.. I didn't plan on it…"

"And sleep on the twin bed in your old room?"

"Well… yeah."

She turned and looked at made bed sticking out from the back of the couch before straining her eyes back in my direction. "Please?"

I nodded as we both made our way there. "Um... which side do you normally sleep on?"

"Right."

I released a breath. "Thank God, I'm the left side."

We both took a minute to avoid delving into that and instead slid between the sheets. We creaked and scuffed into place before finally laying our heads down on the pillows. Simultaneously facing each other, Maura looked to me with an ear to ear grin on her face.

"Was it everything you thought it would be?"

"So, so much more."

"We're talking about the pull out bed, right?"

"Good night, Jane," she said with a sleepy smile.

"Night, Maur."


	13. Chapter 13

No worries, still more chapters to come that are in the works. Thank you for reading and your reviews as always!

Chapter Thirteen

 _I felt the cold steel of the blade sting my neck. His eerie voice that struck fear across all my nerves told me that I was his now, that he could do whatever he pleased to me. He wanted to make sure I didn't move, and if I made any kind of noise it should only be his name whimpering from my cracked lips. The edge of his scalpel pierced through my hand like it were butter – first the left, then the right, fastening my palms to the floor beneath my head. He said restraints were too impersonal, and this way his marks would be on me forever. I heard the sharp zip of his slacks and my palms pulsated as I tried to create larger holes in the middle of hands. He laughed his maniacal laugh and told me it was too late. "No!" I begged. "No!"_

Frozen sweat beaded from my forehead as I shot up from my laying position. I felt a subtle grip on me and the drumming in my ears couldn't form the words they were saying and my blurred vision was unable to make out the figure as I numbly tried to swing my throbbing hands at them. I remembered my therapy and schooled myself into taking three shaky breaths. My eyes began to focus on my surroundings as I did my best to make sense of each object around me. Once my eyes were seeing clearly, I worked on my ears. I slowed the swaying of my head and unclenched my jaw.

What sounded like a voice from a mile away was calling my name. I zeroed in on the tone and the words while keeping my breathing in check so I didn't hyperventilate like the other times before.

"Jane?" Concern and worry encircled my name that was repeatedly being called out. "Jane, it was a nightmare. It's a nightmare Jane. Come back to me. Come back. Jane, it's me, Maura. It's Maura. Jane, please."

Like a switch, I snapped out of my panic and looked to her anxious features. "Maura?"

"Yes, yes honey it's me. It's me. You were having a nightmare." She smoothed her hands down my arm to let me know she was real. "It's okay now. You're okay."

I felt the rise and fall of my slumped body gasping for new air while I was still coming back to my conscious state. The pressure from the opposite side of the bed had lessened and I didn't feel the warm presence next to me. I looked around my parent's living room and shifted my weight on the left side of the pull out couch. After a long drawn out instance of staring at the pattern on the blanket, my attention was pulled to the spot next to me on the floor.

"Jane… Here drink this water…" I swung my legs over the side of the frame and placed my feet next to where Maura was kneeled on the carpet. I chugged the contents of the glass and she took it from me placing it on the end table. She reached up slowly and dabbed my forehead with a soft kitchen towel. I leaned my body into the action and she repeated the motion across my temples, the sides of my, neck, and my chest – clearing all the perspiration and erasing my dream one drop at a time.

"I'm sorry…" my voice was low and rocky like slow tires across gravel.

She scooted herself from the ground and now sat next to me on the pull out. "You have nothing to apologize for, Jane… you're safe, now. You're safe here." She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, guiding me into her with soothing rocking motions.

I sat up needing to readjust and her arm stay glued to me to my relief. "Thank you… For… for not freaking out."

She squeezed her hold in response. "Oh I assure you I did. But I was more concerned about making sure you were going to be alright than how I was feeling."

Immediate comfort crawled across my body and all my stiff joints started to loosen. "Thank you, Maura."

We held each others eyes for a long period of time before she asked if I wanted to try and go back to sleep. I knew she could see me weighing the question as she glided back on the mattress and lay on her side, facing me. Worry was etched among her brow as she lifted her arm up as if she were asking for a sideways hug, signaling for me. I threw caution to the wind and didn't hesitate to inch myself right into her hold.

She whispered into the damp crown of my head, "no more nightmares, not tonight, not any night. No more nightmares."

And with that, I fell right back to sleep.

We awoke hours later as the dawning sun tickled between the blinds in the dining room. I was flat on my back and felt the pressure of an arm stretched across my midsection that was not of my own. I peeked an eye to the body attached the forearm and first took notice of the honey blonde hair in a beautiful disarray all over the pillowcase next to my head.

My slight shifting stirred the woman awake next to me. Maura bashfully smiled while reeling her arm back. "Sorry…" She explained with an almost stutter… "I… I usually have a body pillow… and..."

"Please, it helped keep off the rest of the nightmares…" I tried to not let my shame ruin this morning. "So I should really be thanking you."

Her blush warmed the sheets while she whispered her response. "You are more than welcome."

I ignored the fluttering in my stomach and changed the subject while readjusting myself to a sitting position, readying to stand. "Um… I noticed you didn't bring any luggage?"

"It's all still on the plane… My pilot was given the clear to land at the Palwaukee airport this morning and I took a cab here," the socialite admitted.

"Oh… weird. That's a tiny airport."

"Yes we were fortunate enough they were able to accommodate the space on such short notice."

I cleared my dry throat to rid of some of the discomfort beginning to swell in the room. "Well, I wanted to get to the hospital this morning… I can bring you over there… for a change of clothes if you would like…" I didn't wait for her response as I gauged her reaction to my words. "My mother asked me to stop for breakfast on the way over there… I know a bakery that has some of the greatest pastries and coffee I have ever had…" Maura still seemed confused by what I saying as we prepared to shove the pull out mattress back into the couch.

After putting the cushions back on, I turned to face the subtle millionaire to clear some of the misunderstanding among her features. "What I am asking… is after I bring you to the airport to change into a pair of your fancy clothes from the private jet you have on standby, we go and grab breakfast and coffee for you, myself, and my mother, and bring it to the hospital so I can visit my father…?"

"Oh," she grinned with comprehension. "Um… I don't necessarily need to head back to the jet if it is out of the way… If you have a change of clothes that don't remind of you a girl that broke your heart I'd be happy to wear them instead."

My chest rumbled with laughter before the noise fell from my lips. "Absolutely!" I gasped out in the middle of my hilarity. "Let's shower and hit the road."

She raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"There are towels in the closet in the bathroom down here for you along with some shampoos, and soaps, and some toothbrushes my mom has acquired from hotels over the years. Help yourself, and I will run upstairs and make it snappy."

As soon as I made it upstairs I heard her engage the water downstairs. I waited a minute before twisting my handle on and doing whatever I could to keep my mind away from the nightmare I had last night.

I spent longer than I anticipated in there as the steam collected and clouded the tile. I emerged with a towel wrapped around my midsection and darted to the basement to collect a few sets of clothes from the boxes of my belongings down there. I gave a few sniff tests and thankfully the dryer sheets I kept in there maintained their freshness.

Gathering the sweats, my wet feet took me back up the stairs and I noticed she was already out of the bathroom. I waited for a moment until I heard movement upstairs and figured she was probably looking for me. "Sorry Maur, I was getting these from the base…" As I tore into the room with my arms full, she was standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom with a small towel wrapped around her bare form. "Ment." I finished my thought after I dropped the heap of the clothes on the bed. "Um, you change first, whatever you would like." I chanced one more look in her direction and all I could see was the way her skin glistened with the beads of shower leftover. I stumbled back out of the room while closing the door and smacked the heel of my hand against my forehead several times.

She exited the room moments later in my grey and white Chicago PD t-shirt and green unzipped hoodie with a pair of black leggings. I could hardly believe how incredible she looked in this as I quickly bypassed her and changed into my black joggers and blue v-neck long sleeve shirt.

The grin on her face was still crawling with amusement as I walked out of my room. I gave her a warning look which she immediately understands as mostly playful. "What's the name of the place with the best pastries and coffee?"

"Oh, it's called Steam. It's on the way. I think you'll like it…"

We ventured out to my mother's Prius and Maura could not say enough about how much she enjoyed this car; she used words such as quiet and versatile. I rolled my eyes as she raved about it and veered into the closest parking spot outside the coffee shop.

As soon as we entered a part of me was ready to create a Jane-sized hole in the glass threshold.

"Heyyy… Jane! Long time no see. You're lookin' hotter than ever. This your new girl? She's a looker too. Damn. Couple of beauties. I haven't seen you since you were in the academy. You still have your sexy abs? Ahhh, I bet you do. C'mon, let me get you two gorgeous ladies a coffee, huh? What'll it be?"

"Maura, meet Giovanni," My less than enthusiastic tone was missed by him and noticed by her. "We went to high school together."

"Yeah, then I dated half the squad of ladies from her academy days," he chuckled while leaning over the counter. "Never this one though. Nope. Always wanted to. I pined after her for years and nothin' at all. Not even a make out sess' behind the bleachers." You could practically see a memory washing over him, "Me and the guys used to hide under them at the girls track meets 'cause they always wore the sports bras and little stretchy shorts, and Janie here had the most incredible abs. We all went crazy over them. Could bounce a quarter right off…"

"Okay! Giovanni…" I did my best to stop his train of thought while peering over at Maura who had a smirk reaching across one side of her face as she listened. I shrugged my shoulders in her direction and she took that as her cue. She slithered next to my body, wrapping her right arm around my waist and turning herself into me to and putting her left hand on my shoulder.

"We were just looking for some coffee and your famous pastries. Jane's mother is waiting for us to bring breakfast." Maura claimed her space of me in front of my high school acquaintance, shutting up both him and me for different reasons.

He rang in three coffees and a box of pastries without much lip while Maura hung off the side of my body and running her fingers possessively up and down my back. Giovanni casually wished us a farewell, told me tell my mom he said hello, and told me to stop by anytime at all.

"I usually keep her rather… tied up… on time. But we will keep that in mind." My blonde companion added as we left the coffee shop.

My jaw had spent so much time on floor I wasn't able to respond much apart from the occasional incredulous looks in her direction, to which she would receive with an endearing yet baffling smile.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry for the wait, still more to come following this chapter, thank you for sticking it out with me and for the feedback!

Chapter Fourteen

I was sitting with my father in his hospital room watching now a second episode of Nova on the small TV in the corner next to a bay of floor to ceiling windows on his seventh floor suite. He was little more lucid this morning and we were able to hold a conversation about how he was saddened that he had given my ma such a scare and heard her crying all night next to him in the very chair I was sitting in. One of the orderlies must have swapped out the plastic chair for this much more comfortable recliner for my mother last night. He said the doctors have all been really nice and most of them knew the last name Rizzoli because of me. Apparently one nurse made a joke in his favor about how I was an antsy and restless patient.

After a little more over an hour of my being here he asked when I was going to be heading back to Boston. My only answer was, "Maybe when you're better, Pop."

He puffed out a skeptical sigh, "You gotta make your own moves, Janie. Didn't you remind me last night that the Rizzoli's are unstoppable?" He took my silence as his retort. "You're a lot like your old man here, Jane." The whizzing and whirring of the machines was a heavy milieu to his words. "Go with your gut."

I let that marinate and thought about the last time I really went with my instincts and ended up with holes in the middle of my hands from a crazy, psycho mad man. I think my father saw the worry knit across my brow the same way his does.

"The last time I went with my gut, Pop, I ended up with these." I held up my surrendering palms.

"That's not the last time you went with your gut, Janie. And think about it… You tracked down that killer. You knew where he was. You followed your instinct all the way to that warehouse. You just didn't have any backup. You didn't bring your partners. You didn't let them know…" His voice was going hoarse and my ears were ringing with the words he wasn't actually saying. I poured him some water from the table across his gurney and brought the straw to his mouth so he could drink. "All I'm saying is when you make a big gut-wrenching decision make sure you have backup… Even if it's one person… And even if it's the most unlikely person but your stomach is singing to you to move closer to that edge and for some damn reason it just makes a whole hell of a lot of sense…."

He knew I heard the message between the lines by the smug expression on his face as he nestled his head back into the pillow with victory. We bid our love to each other as he said he needed another nap before the rest of the family came to visit today - I playfully warned him he would need a lot more than just a little nap to gather all that necessary energy. I left the room after a kiss to his forehead and told him he would the first to know anything. "I already know," he said before shutting his eyes and faking sleep worse than I did when I was a child and wanted to stay up all night.

I slowly walked back down the corridor to the waiting room where Maura and my mother were seated. When we had first entered the mundane space they had thrown their arms around each other like they had been friends for years. It made my head spin slightly and I immediately wondered just how much they had spoken after my hasty exit from the Isles Estate.

Right before I rounded the corner I heard whispered tones of voices and it halted my steps unexpectedly. I figured I was the topic of conversation and proceeded to plaster myself against the wall just out of sight but well within earshot to where I could overhear each word. Curiosity outweighed my guilty, eavesdropping, conscience.

"I just can't stop thinking about how I turned so wicked so quickly after a lengthy visit from my mother. She used my father's death against me once more and told me all of these unbelievable anecdotes about him… But I believed them all, of course. And culpability and blame flipped an angry switch in me that I just aimed toward everyone. Even the one person I never wanted to target."

"But you don't think it will happen again?"

"Oh gosh, Angela. I hope not. I can't bear the thought. I was devastated knowing that she had left because of my awful, atrocious words. I despise so many aspects of who I was before she came into my life," Maura cleared her throat and dropped her voice an octave with her admittance, "and a little bit during… I just… She means too much to me to not try."

"If she is as hard headed as her father, she will definitely make you try pretty hard."

A handful of hospital staff in various colored scrubs walked past me while I had myself pinned to the wall. They briefly looked in my direction, probably to make sure I wasn't an escapee from the psych ward unit before they continued on their way.

"She is worth every second… and I have a lot to make up for." I heard some shifting around before Maura persisted. "She has never outwardly made assumptions about me, or taken me for granted, or used me much like the other people I have encountered. There is this genuineness about her that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's an addicting quality to want to be around… I feel like I completely ruined my chance but have graciously been offered a second one and I want to do it all right."

I hardly had an opportunity to wait for my mother's response or to let all this sink in before my feet started to move against the protest in my brain. I tried to look as nonchalant as possible as I slowly came into their view. I had a feeling my mother saw through the bullshit but Maura on the other hand stood up from her seated position with wide eyes and somehow looked a little differently than she did an hour and a half ago. I don't know if it was the lack of make up, or the lighting, or the fact that she was wearing my clothes, or the setting in which we found ourselves, but there was most certainly a significant change.

"How is your father, Jane?" The woman occupying my mind apprehensively asked me, almost as if she were beginning a long walk across eggshells.

"He's doing well… we watched a Nova special on butterflies then he said he needed to get some rest before the whole family visits with him today."

"The migration of the monarch to Mexico during the fall months?"

"Yeah…" For some reason, it didn't surprise me that she knew exactly which television special I was referring to.

"It's a very informative documentary on their annual passage."

I smiled at her words and our focuses lingered back to one another. Glued, and fixed into position. Almost as if we were searching back the hours, days, years of our lives and catching up to speed. A secret conversation we were unaware we were having ; a moment we would both remember even separately after a decade of time ticked by. I knew my mom was watching our interaction closely but I couldn't break the trance of my eyes on her nor was I trying to. We were magnets. And I'm not sure if it had to do with the shift I noticed when I came around the corner, but this was new, and pulling me in with ease as if it were summer and this endless pool was begging me to dive into it's forever blue waters. I was just about ready to release my body but a nagging presence in the back of my head told me to wait, to exercise patience. I recalled what my father just told me about your stomach singing to you and it all just made so much sense.

"Jane!?" I wasn't sure how many times she said my name to get my attention but I had to rapidly blink fifty times in order to tear my eyes away from Maura.

"Yeah? Ma?"

She looked between the both of us again with a devil of a grin, knowing full well what she just interrupted even if we didn't fully understand it yet. "Frankie texted me earlier, he will be by shortly."

"Okay?"

"I would like to go home and shower and grab a change of clothes. You father will be here at least one more night I feel like hospital funk."

Maura and I both giggled with sympathy. "Okay Ma, we'll take you home but I don't think one shower will get rid of your funk."

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli you don't talk to your mother like that!"

"Your middle name is Clementine?" Maura chimed in.

"Thank you, for that, _Mother."_

My brother's voice rounded the corner with laughter, "You haven't even been here two days Janie and she's already middle-naming you. The hell did you do?" He kissed our mom on the head and slugged my arm. "Oh, you must be Maura?"

"Yes." I stepped forward. "Maura, this is Frankie… Frankie, this is my boss, Maura."

"She's still your boss?"

"No." Maura said at the same exact time I said "yes."

We all looked to each other with inquisitive eyes and misunderstanding before my mother took the initiative to break the pregnant silence. She told him she would be back this evening to relieve him of the handful of relatives that will be there and we were on our way to the parking garage. On the elevator ride down, the honey blonde socialite gabbed on and on about how much she loved my mother's Prius and was thinking about getting one herself.

Our ride back to the house was calm and quick with thick uncertainties still lingering in the air above our heads. When we walked through the front door my mother asked we slept on the pull out couch. After Maura happily answered her, it didn't dawn on me until well after she had asked that she just assumed it was both of us on there. She excused herself to her room and I asked my _boss_ if she wanted to join me on a walk around the neighborhood.

She gladly bounced to the door as we made our way out. The warm mid June sun was heating the sidewalk as we pressed on for the first block. I could tell Maura was starting to perspire from her forehead a little bit and was becoming warm enough to fidget with tugging the sleeves her (my) unzipped hooded sweatshirt. After two more blocks of the continuous motion from her, I stopped and turned her toward me.

"If I may?" Barely a nod in response and I was sliding the article of clothing from her shoulders and wrapping the arms of the sweater around her waist with a knot in the front. With her flawless and smooth skin on display, I discovered just how hard it was to hold back tracing the pads of my fingers along the inside of her arm. Instead, my hands remained on the tether while I looked back up to her. "Better?"

"Much." She must have known what I was thinking as her fingers danced across mine while I tightened the loop around her hips.

Immediately our eyes locked on each other's as they did before, darting back and forth. The space around her once occupied by a tot lot and chain link fence was now a blurring backdrop and my simple focus was solely on the hazel of her irises. I hadn't realized I was slowly drawing her into me by the bind around her midsection until the snap of a dog's bark brought out us out of this daze. We both looked away and dropped our arms to our sides, and I can't speak for her, but my body immediately missed the contact because the front of me shivered into the seventy-eight degree warmth of the mid day with the loss of her against me.

We moseyed on a little more through the neighborhood and I did my best to keep the topics light and airy by pointing out small memories on each block. She listened closely and actively, seemingly interested at each and every tiny moment I shared. Such as "this house here used to have the most amazing tire swing out front." Or "Joey Grant's house growing up was the hang out place because of his huge front porch and in the summer his parents would bring the TV out there." I had gotten her into a fit of hysterics when I then went on to tell her that the same Joey Grant also asked me to homecoming in high school and I had to decline because his cousin, Lauren, who was a year older, had asked me first.

When we came up to the field where I used to play softball as a kid, we sat in the bleachers and I asked for some of Maura's stories like that from when she was growing up. When she gave me the quizzical look, I told her I wanted to know her smaller details in the larger picture of life. She understood this more and looked throughout the expanse of the park in front of us with a deep sigh.

"I didn't really have any friends growing up…"

"C'mon, not one Joey Grant in your life?"

"Well, not until boarding school... I transferred from France to London, per my mother's request, in my sophomore year. I knew I could start fresh there and be whoever I wanted, it was a blessing really, though I would never admit it to her. I was very lonely in France." She paused with the memory flooding through her and redirected onto a higher note. "My roommate in London was rather radical and was determined to bring me out of my shell. She was the only other student from the states so we were outcasts together. She taught me how to sneak out of our room so we could drink our pilfered wine behind the professor's dormitories. She also had to teach me how to sneak _back_ in, and quietly, once we had inebriated ourselves."

I laughed along with her memory, "Wow Maura, stealing wine and sneaking out? Didn't know I was in the presence of such a bad ass."

We giggled and swung our dangling legs like children on a tall stool. Our swaying bodies had lingered us shoulder-to-shoulder with our hands clamped on either side of thighs on the bleachers. Our pinkies dared to touch as we spun our eyes back to contact. The sun behind her gave a look as if she was glowing. She was the brightest thing outside I found myself being powerlessly drawn in yet again.

My phone in my pocket chimed a noise and our reverie was severed by the clamor. My body slumped an apology and I read the message from my mother. Loud and clear.

"Okay, I'm ready to go back."

I looked hard and long at that message. _Me too_ , I thought. _Me too._


	15. Chapter 15

My apologies in the wait for this next chapter, thank you for your patience, and as always, for your reviews. You all make every word worth it. There will be at least one more chapter after this one.

Chapter Fifteen

Torn between two worlds that had just briefly merged, I sat confused and contemplative as the Isles private jet took off from this tiny airport in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. I, like most normal people, had never been on one. It was like an upscale, flying, penthouse suite with recliners, couches, and seatbelts. My brother had dropped us off after we brought my mom back to the hospital to stay with my dad for the last night he would need to be admitted. Upon the demand of my mother, I introduced Maura to my father. I wasn't sure who was more nervous but she certainly played it off better than I could have.

He shed a little light on the earlier confusion I had in regards to just how much they had spoken when I wasn't around as he plainly stated, "So you're the reason for all those new recipes?" The socialite had shyly answered yes with a brief explanation of how they exchange at least one a day so they can keep their chef skills fresh. He confessed to really liking some of the chicken dishes even though he's such a picky eater which earned a laugh from both my mom and Frankie. I stood dumbfounded still at the notion of them swapping recipes every day. How did I not know this was going on?

My father didn't seem surprised when I told him I was going back to Massachusetts, though he did make me, well both of us, promise to come Rizzoli Sunday dinner. Not just this week's which would be in just a few days time, but once a month he requested our, at least my, presence. Maura agreed before I had the chance to and her and my mother turned to each other to immediately discuss the menu. My head could not whip around fast enough which earned an apologetic look from Maura in my direction.

Now I am reclined in this oversized and overstuffed airplane seat watching tiny buildings and homes shrink in our wake as we continued to make the climb beyond the clouds. The socialite seated directly across from me had taken numerous phone calls since we arrived at the airport – catching up on a day and a half worth of missed work, I presumed. Her tone had become softer, more conscious of the effects it played on the ears of those she hounded, as she still politely demanded how things get done.

I admired her. I couldn't deny that any longer. I pulled my view from the window and just watched her in action. The slightest bit of her movements had me in awe, the way her hand gripped around the cell phone, the crossing and uncrossing of her legs when she made her point clear through the receiver. She caught me eyeing her and I must have been grinning like a fool because a break in her professional demeanor revealed a dimple in her cheek followed by an uncharacteristic "umm" into her end of the phone before she slid back on track.

Feeling apprehensive of where to look and where not to look, I decided to just close my eyes and nap for the next two hours until we landed in Massachusetts. I felt a deep sleep pulling me in into the comfortable cushion and the heaviness of my limbs sink to weightlessness.

When I awoke, I felt the feathery softness and warmth of a blanket draped around me and Miss Isles' hazel eyes were trained on my slumbering form. Her expression was unreadable, yet inviting, as I captured her in the penetrating stare. The rise and fall in her chest had increased dramatically.

"Have we landed?"

She unceremoniously cleared her throat and looked through the open window, "Yes, only moments ago. You slept nearly the entire trip."

"I hope I didn't snore too much…" I smiled while righting myself back up and carefully removing the blanket.

"Not at all," she grinned as she stood taking said blanket and storing it in the above compartment, "You seemed very relaxed."

I blushed at the statement as we prepared to depart the jet. The pilot came out to share a few words with Miss Isles and then released the stairs, gesturing for us to carefully exit. I trailed a step behind the millionaire and had my eyes trained in a downward direction so I didn't fall face first.

I didn't notice until both feet were back on East Coast pavement that parked directly in front of us was my '99 Suburu Forester that I had abandoned in front of Logan only days ago – thinking I would never see this car again in my life, my heart burst with happiness as I looked in Maura's direction, grabbing a gentle hold of her wrist in order to keep myself standing upright.

"Hhh…How?"

She wrapped her hand around the soft hold I had on her. "When I spoke to your mother after you left… She said if she knew you at all that you would have probably left your car right in front of the airport before jetting home to be at your father's side."

My eyes watered over this silly car and the incredible gesture.

"She told me how much that car meant to you and what kind of symbol it represented in your life… I knew I needed to get it back for you. I made a few phone calls..."

"Was this before or after you learned how to fold an origami rose?"

"During." Her smile absolutely floored me.

It had felt like years since I curved around the horseshoe-shaped drive in front of the Isles Estate. Before she closed the door to my car, I thanked her vehemently once again, letting her know how much this meant to me.

She responded with, "I grew up with a father who had an unrivaled love and passion for cars. I understand the emotion that can become tied to them more than most. I was happy to pull the strings that I did to get this back for you, Jane."

I reached for her hand and rubbed my thumb across the back of her knuckles. "I know that you make him proud every single day. You're incredible, Maura."

She nodded a thank you and made her way to the front door of the estate as I directed myself back to my modest and comfortable home tucked away behind the garden of this residence. It all felt different being back here. As if years were passing by the closer I got to the front door; so much had changed. I felt changed. After parking my car in the garage, I decided to go on a short walk around the ponds to give my thoughts a moment or two to process, to re-absorb this setting.

No matter how many times I have seen it, the landscaping and serene view around the acres of land here take my breath away. It hadn't been long, though a lifetime had nearly passed since I was back here. I missed this place in a way I couldn't yet rationalize with myself. I walked across the cobblestone paths and crossed each wooden and heavily detailed bridge, stopping to gaze at the koi and other fish swimming among the perfectly aligned rocks and waterscapes. I let the last couple of days and hours catch up to me. A cold choke swelled in my gullet as I thought about the wellness of my father. Relief brought me to the railing of the ornate bridge, slinging my arms over the side with a dangle above the water. I allowed fleeting moments to scurry through my mind as the water rippled beneath me.

I think I was still wrapping my mind around Maura's arrival at my parent's doorstep in a way. It stunned me to my core to see her there, though a comfort encompassed me that I couldn't, and am still unable to, comprehend. Though what I did understand scared the ever living shit out of me. I know we have feelings for each other. I know they dig way, way beneath the surface. I know that we have flirted with this line between us, reluctant to cross it for fear of not knowing the outcome. Though in these last couple of days that line has blurred considerably and I am beginning to think I don't care if I ever see it again. I smile inwardly like an idiot when I think about how she said _"that's what took me so long to get to you."_ Even replaying her words and her touches in my head I feel the warmth in my chest rise from my stomach and back again.

I decided to put this on hold and head back to the house to unwind more, in a different setting, with possibly some background noise so I could zone in and out. I unwrapped myself from the railing of bridge and the numbness in my arms told me I had been there for quite some time already. I shook them out as the gravel beneath my feet carried me back to the front door of my quaint little home. I took a deep breath as I passed the rocking chairs and let it out as soon as twisted the knob of the door.

As soon as it was opened and I was through the threshold with a flick to the light switch, my eyes had no choice but to land on the vibrant array of origami flowers spread over the top of the island in my kitchen. There had to be at least two, maybe even three, dozen of them, each one a different color drawing my attention in a sweeping motion over the parade of brilliant folded paper. I felt a prickle of moisture compromise my sight and blinked hard with a deep inhale, cupping my hand over my mouth with a silent surprise.

The soft padding of comfortable shoes tip toed across the porch and to the open door behind me. I spun quickly enough to make myself dizzy as I caught sight of Maura cautiously playing with the entrance. Her eyes were casted down with an indescribable shyness and the phantom of a smile. She shuffled in through the threshold and closed the door behind her with a hushed click. It was the only other thing that had made a noise apart from the thundering of my heart against my chest.

"Maura…" her name croaked out between the tightness in my throat.

With her eyes still pointed down, she gently tried to speak. "I… I umm.."

"Maur…" I begged with a whisper, letting her know I wanted her to look at me.

"I can't…" Her voice cracked with something heavier than sadness.

"Why...?" I drew out the letters with the deepness of my exhale.

"If I do… I will… I won't be able to…" Her stuttering was beginning to clear up some the confusion clouding this room.

I took two small steps in her direction, my voice picking up more volume, just above a whisper now. "You won't be able to what?"

Her gaze fixed on the floorboards, she answered with the tone of her voice now matching mine. "I won't be able… to stop…"

Finally, she tipped her head up in my direction and the look she had in those striking hazel eyes sucked all the air out of the room and my lungs. They pulled me in like a lifeline and without thinking I threaded the fingers on my left hand through the tendrils in her hair. I felt the grant of permission as she nuzzled her head into my touch.

I dipped my head slowly, nudging the distance left between us to nothing as her arms simultaneously found themselves wrapped around the small of my back. I took one last look at the shine glistening on her lips as I covered them with mine. We both shuddered at the long awaited contact and gripped each other tighter with each glide. I slid my one hand to the nape of her neck and the other between her shoulder blades. We were flush against each other and somehow still not close enough.

She gasped for a breath and we brought our foreheads together, listening to the percussion of our heart rates. After a moment, she slightly pulled her face away from mine so she could see if the fire in my eyes matched hers. With more heat and more passion we firmly gripped fistfuls of one another's clothing and let our lips collide in a fervent pace.

I had never kissed anyone like this before. As if all the emptiness you ever felt was now overfilling with unparalleled ardor and eagerness. I trailed my fingertips down her back and grazed them along the exposed skin above the waist of her pants. She gasped into my lips as I allowed the hands to explore. Her grasp was laced through the ravenous dark locks of my hair as I realized our bodies had taken us to the entry of my bedroom.

"Maura," I gasped between kisses.

"Jane," she communicated back with a frenzied muffle as she nipped at the skin of my neck. I smoothed my thumbs over her hipbones and guided us backwards through the doorway.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Finally! I know this took way too long and I have no excuses, just the last chapter of this story. Please enjoy and leave a review if you have the time or words to express.

Chapter Sixteen

My deep exhale was weighted by the sweat building up at my temples. My knuckles clenched white in their grasp, and my lips have paled from biting my tongue for the past ten minutes.

"Jane," a whimper escaped her throat.

I slammed my eyes shut and opened them with a wide-eyed harshness. "It's okay Maur, you're fine."

A pained chuckle erupted from her chest at my statement. "I really don't want to scratch…"

"You won't, Maura. You won't." I did my best to envelope us with a calmness I hardly believed I could achieve. "Just focus. You got this. I know you do. Just be easy, okay? You are in control here. Just loosen your grip a little, and take three deep breaths." She took the advice to heart and I feel her relax ever so slightly next to me. I placed a steady palm on her denim-clad thigh, applying the tiniest bit of pressure while tracing my fingertips in a soothing pattern across the top of her knee.

A shaky breath escaped her lips and immediately I wanted to catch it on mine. "It's been over ten years since I have driven." Her voice was small, petrified. "And then that semi came out of nowhere with the _loudest_ horn that reached decibels…"

I removed my hand from her thigh, instantly causing her to pause in her panic. I then brought it to cover hers, curled around the delicate steering wheel of the 1962 cherry red Spitfire. "I know, Maur. And I am so proud of you for doing this. For wanting to do this." She leaned her forehead against our hands in front of her. "You may not be the best driver right from the get go, but it takes time and practice, and you will get there. I know you will. Whether I get whiplash in the process or not," I added with a laugh.

The honey blonde in the driver seat gave me a sideways grin. "Will you keep talking to me? Your voice calms me and I still feel slightly agitated."

"Is there a topic you had in mind?" I watched a lazy head shake from her and the mischievous sparkle in her eye that came with it. "Well, I for one was downright surprised when I saw that hummingbird tattoo on your ribcage. Gah! I bet that hurt. It was bigger than I what I thought it would be. And very, _very_ , incredibly sexy." I let my already low voice drop a few octaves as I brought it to a low and leaning whisper in her direction.

Her blushing cheeks almost matched the exterior of the car as she craned her neck in my direction. "You did seem to enjoy it," she exhaled deeply.

"Oh, I did. I enjoyed many things about earlier."

"Hmm… what would you say you enjoyed the mos-"

Her question cut off by my lips capturing hers in a slow and tender kiss – just enough until I feel her body slacken into the seat beneath her. We pulled away after only a moment. "Everything, Maura. I enjoyed everything the most. And I cannot wait to enjoy it again," I placed a kiss along her jaw, "and again," I dragged my lips just below her ear lobe, "and again," I found that spot on her neck I discovered that made her tremble and gave it extra attention with a curl of my tongue. A surprised gasp caught in her throat. Once she was able to catch her breath, she pushed a smoldering kiss against my lips and lost her fingers in the waves of my hair. The once anxious tension within the confines of this tiny vehicle had changed dramatically. Along with the temperature.

"Okay. I can do this." She faced forward and put both hands back on the wheel. Her body was stoic as she closed her eyes and began to unwind. With a signal to the left, she eased herself back on to the now empty road.

When I woke up this morning, I had been laying on my back with this goddess draped over the top of my body and my hand wrapped around her midsection. I had felt the incredible ache of an amazing night of making love to Maura Isles warm across my limbs as I gave a lazy stretch beneath the weight of her gorgeous body. The movement must have woken her because without even moving her head or looking in my direction, she trailed her fingers lightly across my bare abdomen and made a figure eight down my exposed hips. "Jane… Will you teach me how to drive today? I think I'm ready." I agreed immediately seeing as how I was the one who offered in the first place what felt like a dozen years ago.

So I chose a long stretch of street that I had come to really like in the months of my driving around here. It was off the beaten path, smooth, quiet, never really saw much traffic, and was just perfect for feeling the tires rolling beneath you and gliding.

She was handling it much better than before, confidence slowly taking form. I remained as neutral as possible in the passenger seat to aid in her focus. It seemed to have worked as we came to the first stoplight after several miles and she performed a small and silent celebratory dance right behind the wheel that made my heart just absolutely soar.

"You want to keep going? We're getting closer to the city now."

Maura leaned back, relaxing some more in her seat, "Yes." She seemed to have smiled at her own response as she turned to look at me, the red from the traffic signal casting her skin in a glowing pink. "I want to keep going, Jane."

"Good." I held her eyes until I saw the warm hue of the light changing to a quick green. "I would like to keep going too." I said this in a way to complete the subtle conversation we were having.

She applied a more generous amount of pressure to the gas pedal than before – confidence weighing the lead in her foot. I said nothing at first, when she was only going five miles per hour over the speed limit. Not wanting to hinder this new found freedom she has discovered, I kept my lips tight and clasped my hands in my lap with a sweaty squeeze. Every fifteen seconds I couldn't help but sneak a stare in the direction of the stunning blonde who was now full on speeding as we entered the outskirts of downtown Boston. The quick change of the scenery around us seemed to have slowed her down a little bit. Though it seems it didn't happen in time.

A sharp siren blared behind us and the twist of red and blue flashing lights brought an abrupt stop to this Spitfire in the middle of the street. I've never been on _this_ side of the thin blue line. This thought both terrified me and made me chuckle inwardly. Through clenched teeth I told her it would be best if she pulled as close to the right as she could and braced myself for the tap on the window.

Meanwhile, Maura was having what appeared to be the beginning of a panic attack. The wild fanning of her hands, jittery movements, and choking for air had me nearly freaking out. I was used to being on the other side of this, so this juxtaposition was oddly unsettling and I was mildly curious how it would pan out.

"Oh my God, oh my God, we are going to go to jail. I can't go to jail. Jane… Jane…" She panted through strained mouthfuls of air.

"Maur, calm down. We are not going to jail. It's going to be fine…" I grabbed a hold of her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles, trying my best to sound convincing. This really could go so many different ways.

My consoling was cut short by curt taps on _both_ of our windows simultaneously. Maura's eyes widened before she pivoted in her seat to the officer who rapped a knuckle against the all original window on the 1962 vehicle. My irritated gaze took me in the opposite direction and the slight concern knit in my brow fell immediately to a smirk.

"License and registration, ma'am." The older voice of the officer sounded throughout the car. Maura hardly looked at him as she fumbled her way to the glove compartment. "Jane, help me…" a strangled whisper fell from her lips.

I cranked my window all the way down and folded an arm out of the frame. "Now I _know_ you guys are keeping tabs on me."

"Guess its just coincidence we keep running into you, Rizzoli." Detective Frost bent his voice down to the passenger side.

"Yep, you sure got that right, partner. Think she's just lookin' for trouble?"

"Miss Isles here was nearly going fifteen miles over the speed limit – I think she might be the one starting trouble." Frost responded back with a cluck of his tongue. "What a shame."

Maura jerked her head from side to side, confusion whirring around her. "What is this about?"

"Let's cut to the chase," Detective Korsak dipped his neck into the window so he could see both of us. "I'm willing to look past a ticket for the price of a visit to the station."

"Oh, so you just want to book us right away?" I snorted in retort which gained the most incredulous look from the not-so-socialite in my direction.

"Not necessarily." The graying detective smiled mischievously. "Why don't you keep this classic at the proper speed limit, and follow us."

Maura looked back me with heavy questions in her eyes as I watched the two detectives retreat to their unmarked car. "Jane… What should we do?"

They really did not give us another choice _but_ to follow them. I took a steadying breath and asked if she was okay to drive or wanted me to do so. Her nerves had gotten the best of her as she quickly escaped the driver side and met me half way through the transition of seats. As I slid behind the wheel and adjusted myself, I took in the pale tones of the once glowing and golden blonde woman next to me. I lifted an arm around her shoulders and brought her into me as well as I could in these positions we were sat in. I bent my head down for a reassuring kiss to the forehead.

"They're harmless, Maur. They just want to talk." I felt her nod in response as I slowly brought my arm back in front of me and began to follow the two persistent detectives.

Detective Korsak clapped me on the shoulder as he showed us to the exit of the BPD headquarters and down the few steps to the sidewalk in front of the building. Leaning on the handrail, he directed his attention to Maura with a warning shake of his finger, "And just so you know, we're all clear on the speeding ticket under the notion Detective Rizzoli here will be sure to coach you and make sure you meet the required hours before renewing your license."

"And if you're ever looking for someone to test drive any of your classic cars you be sure to give me a call Ms. Isles." Detective Frost added.

The senior office rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. You two agree on the terms?"

I watched Maura's head shake in a nervous agreement before looking in my direction. "Yes, agreed." I huffed. "And stop calling me a detective."

He turned with a laugh and began retreating inside, his younger partner on his tail.

I threw my thumb over my shoulder as we headed back to the Spitfire. "Can you believe these two knuckle heads?"

"Actually, the more unbelievable one is you, Jane." A slow and exciting smile spread across her face. "You… knuckle head."

An abrupt laugh escaped my lips and instantly I wanted to kiss her. The look on her face confirmed she felt the same way.

"Oh, Rizzoli, before I forget…" Detective Korsak shouted my name once he had a grip on the handle to the door of the building.

I looked to him curiously as he pulled something from his pocket, tossing it in a slow-motion arc in my direction. I caught it with ease and cradled it in my hands. The look and feel of it was exactly as I remembered.

"See you Monday, Detective." Frost waved to us before ducking into the building.

I didn't have a chance to respond as I brushed my fingers over my brass shield.

"And Ms. Isles, I will leave your information with the front desk. I know Dr. Susie Chang will be eager to meet with you tomorrow afternoon to assist in a consult." Korsak followed suit behind Frost and left us standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

I slid my arm around her shoulders and guided us back to the car. "So, what shall we do now?"

"Well, Detective, I'd like to go back to your place and celebrate your new job."

My heart thumped heavily in my chest. "Let's not waste time, why don't you drive Speed Racer."

"Very funny, Jane," she stopped to turn at me with a pout.

Before she was fully able to pop her lip out to complete the look, I pulled her into me and captured her in a heated kiss.


End file.
